Death Valley
by mpluto
Summary: Joe is kidnapped, Adam is transformed in the desert. You get a mine, the Indians, the rescue, the losses, and the eventual return home packed with PAM, JPM and JAM. You also get the story of the struggle of the First Peoples in Death Valley, the Shoshoni and the Aha macave.


**Death Valley**

**Summary: **Joe is kidnapped, Adam is transformed in the desert. You get a mine, the Indians, the rescue, the losses, and the eventual return home packed with PAM, JPM and JAM. You also get the true story of the struggle of the First Peoples in Death Valley, the Shoshoni and the Aha macave.

**Chapter One**

Why was he the one who always had to go check the herd on a Saturday? Pa had left Adam in charge while he went to St. Louis, and Adam had chosen to stay at the ranch to fix a wagon wheel. Hoss had talked his way out of going with Joe, saying Adam would need him to lift the wagon and hold it for Adam to slide the wheel on.

It would take those two all day to fix that one wagon wheel, and most of that time they'd be jawing. It would take Joe all day to ride out, count cattle, collect the missing strays, and ride back. He probably wouldn't be back in time to go to the dance in town, but you could bet a week's pay that Adam and Hoss would be there.

Taking the shortcut through Warner's Pass, Joe stopped to quench his already growing thirst. "I'll just bet Adam asked that new gal," Joe fumed aloud as he angrily pulled the top from his canteen. He'd barely brought the canteen to his lips when a deep, gravelly voice called out behind him, "Don't move."

Joe hadn't heard anything else, so he figured the man was alone. Turning, he reached for his gun. He stopped cold at the sound of a gunshot. The bullet hit the canteen, causing a stream of water to fall, first soaking into the dry, sandy soil, then splashing when the dirt couldn't drink any more.

"Throw your gun down and get off your horse," said the owner of the gruff voice.

Joe did as he was told hoping he'd be able to eventually get a jump on the man, but when he was standing away from Cochise, three other men came out from behind a boulder. He heard the distinct sound of a wagon rattling, and it soon appeared behind them.

"What d'you think?" said one of the men to another, eyeing Joe.

"It don't make no difference as long as he's a live one. We have to show up with five, and now that we dumped the other one in the lake, I figure the quicker we replace him, the quicker we can be on our way."

"What if he's somebody?"

"It still won't make no difference. He's leaving everything behind, and where he's going, no one will care."

"You," said the first man. "Take off your gun belt and empty your pockets."

Joe removed his gun belt and reached into his jacket pockets, pulling out paper, a pencil, a small picture of his mother, and some coins. He walked toward a rock to place the contents, and one of the men hit his hand, scattering everything on the ground.

The man knocked Joe's hat off his head. "Take off your belt and your jacket." Once that was done, the man felt Joe's waist and legs at his boots. "Ain't nothing left," he said to the first man who seemed to be in charge.

"What about the horse?" asked another of the men. "He's better than some of ours."

"We ain't taking the horse," said the man in charge. "We ain't taking anything that might lead someone to him. He disappears just like the rest of 'em."

"What about the money?"

"Leave it. Everything stays."

"Look, whatever you want, I can get it," offered Joe.

"You don't get it, do you boy? We got exactly what we need standing here; an able body." Talking to one of the men, the man in charge said, "Bring the shackles and get 'em on him."

When the man bent to put shackles on Joe's ankles, Joe suddenly raised his hands, clasping them together, and brought them down hard on the back of the man's head. He was rewarded with a rifle butt in his side that bent him double.

When he caught his breath, he looked up, flaring his nostrils and said through gritted teeth, "I don't know what you want with me, but if you think you're taking me without a fight, you're wrong."

"I don't care what you have to do, get those shackles on him. Just don't break his legs, feet, hands, arms or back. He'll be needin' those."

Before Joe could mount a defense, another rifle butt caught him in the stomach, and before he could catch his breath, he was wearing wrist and ankle shackles.

"My family will come looking for me," he said, gasping for breath.

The man in charge laughed. "Let 'em. They'll never find the deep, dark hole you're going to, boy."

Joe felt himself flying through the air as the men threw him face-down into the back of the wagon. He lay still for a moment, grimacing from the pain in his chest, his stomach and his groin from whatever it was he had landed on. When he finally turned over, all he saw was four sets of hopeless eyes staring back at him.

**Chapter Two**

Joe struggled to sit up and leaned back against the wagon seat, studying the four men who stared at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the closest man quickly shook his head, his eyes filled with warning…or was that fear?

Looking around him, he saw that all of them wore shackles, but their shackles were chained together. There was nothing he could see in the wagon that he could use to free himself or use as a weapon. He knew he wouldn't be able to jump out; two men on horseback closely followed the wagon. For the time being, he was stuck with nothing to do but wait…and think.

He winced at the pain in his ribs as much from the pain in his chest and groin from landing on the ankle shackles, locks and chains of the men who were already in the wagon. They must have ridden for hours without a break. He hadn't heard any discussion from the men outside the wagon…only the sound of the horse's hooves on the ground and the squeak and rattle of the wagon.

Suddenly, without the utterance of a word, the wagon stopped. From the creak of leather, Joe knew the men were dismounting their horses, but still no one said a word. Could it be they didn't want to be heard by any outsiders? Joe whispered to the man next to him. "Why aren't they talking?"

The man nervously shook his head, and pointed to his tongue. When Joe looked back questioningly, the man tapped the arm of another prisoner sitting across from them and motioned for him to open his mouth. What Joe saw made him turn away in revulsion. The man's tongue had been recently cut out.

The leader appeared at the back of the wagon. "Get out."

The four other men in the wagon stood so that the chain between them was in line. As one began to step out, the next one on the chain line was right behind him. All of them lined up immediately behind the one in front to avoid them all tangling and crashing down to the ground. When it was Joe's turn to climb out, he got up slowly, holding his side. Putting his hands on the back lip of the wagon, he slowly stepped out onto a tongue, and when both his feet were together, he jumped down.

One of the men grabbed him and pushed him to the front of the line with the others, then attached a chain from his shackles to the man next to him. "This way, you won't be tempted to run. You try and all these others will fall on top of you."

"Why are you so worried about me?" asked Joe, scowling.

"These boys haven't had anything but mine rations for better than a week. You're the strongest. This way this chain gang is only as good as the weakest man."

"Mine…what mine around here would take on slaves?"

The man laughed. "I guess that tells you something, don't it."

"Alright then, where are you taking us?"

"Death Valley, boy. There's all kinds of mines in Death Valley. And all kinds of Indian trouble, too."

"The army won't stand for it when they find what you're doing."

Laughing again, he turned to his companions. "Did you hear that? When the army finds out, they won't stand for it." All of the men started laughing. "There's a reason we get by all those Injuns out there, boy. We have an army escort," he said, going from a chuckle to an all out laugh as he walked away toward his men. "Water 'em. Give 'em their bread and let 'em take a leak. Then get 'em back in the wagon. We need to put another twenty miles behind us before nightfall." He turned back to his prisoners. "You boys should get some sleep. Come nightfall, you'll be walking."

**Chapter Three**

Joe was now sitting on a bench inside the wagon. He was lucky. He was at the front where there was something to lean on other than the canvas of the bonnet. He and the man across from him leaned to the side against the back of the seat, leaving the other men to lean on each other. If they leaned back, they might tear the canvas and fall backwards out of the wagon. The men dozed off and on, their sleep interrupted by the rough ride of the wagon on the rutted back roads. Their captors avoided any homesteads and towns. They were staying on the roads less traveled.

Joe tried to keep up with their direction, but it was next to impossible with the little bit of daylight he could see out the back of the wagon. When that daylight faded to dusk, the wagon came to a halt again, and the prisoners were ordered out. "Here's how this works, boy," said the boss. "You keep everyone walking in front of you, and number one's neck won't get stretched," he said, nodding to the prisoner who was first in line as another man tied a rope around his neck and tied the other end to the wagon. "If he falls, it won't kill him before we get the wagon stopped, but it'll sure make him think he's been hung, 'specially if the rest of you fall. You let one of 'em fall, you're in front next."

Joe had held his tongue all day, but he knew the wagon was moving faster than they could walk. "If you need us for work in a mine, what's the point in wearing us out before we get there?" he yelled with his chest heaving.

"This here's practice. You'll be working in the mine on a chain gang just like this. One of you falls, all of you fall…or get buried under a ton of rock. And then the mine'll be short some men, and I'll just have to find some more able bodies. I prefer to sit and watch you dig with a gun at your back."

"You know, for a man in charge, you aren't very smart," hissed Joe. "We can dig more if we're not worn out."

The man looked away and spit, then glowered back at Joe. "I see I need to remind you what happens to someone who talks too much." He motioned to two of his men to hold Joe. One grabbed his arms from the back, and the other grabbed a handful of hair, tilting his head back. The boss tossed his rifle to another man, and then pulled a knife from a sheath attached to his belt. Walking slowly toward Joe with the knife in one hand, turning it round and round, he leaned in close to Joe's face…almost nose to nose. "We already left one of these boy's tongues behind. We can always leave two behind." Joe winced at the man's breath, the foul stench of rotting flesh. "The tongue is the perfect piece to lose. You can't do anything more than grunt without it. No one can see that it's gone unless you show 'em. And there's surprisingly very little blood. Besides that, you swallow it all eventually."

Joe refused to look away, and continued to glare.

"I'll tell you what, boy. I'll leave you your tongue. But next time you decide to get smart with me, I'll take another one of their tongues." The man grabbed hold of Joe's left sleeve and ripped it away. "And just as a reminder, I'll leave you with something to help you remember to keep your mouth shut." He nodded to the man holding Joe's head back. "Raise his arm. Now this, boy, will be with you for quite a while. It just takes a small cut in your armpit, but it'll hurt like it's on fire. Unless you hold your arm out, it'll rub. Then there's sweat, and just as soon as we get a little further south tomorrow, you will sweat."

The man drew his knife across Joe's armpit only an inch, but deep enough for Joe to clench his teeth in pain. He smiled in Joe's face as Joe flared his nostrils, looking away to keep from saying anything.

"Smart boy," said the boss as he walked away. "You two," he said, pointing to two of his men. "Get in the wagon and get some sleep. We'll stop in a few hours to trade places. You," he said, pointing to the other two. "Ride behind the wagon."

Joe picked his shirt sleeve up off the ground, and slung it in the air to remove the dirt, then folded it and stuffed it under his arm. It was still hurting just from the cut, but Joe knew the rubbing and sweat would be worse. He'd have to try to keep his arm still.

Once the men were lined up behind the wagon, it pulled forward at a slow enough pace at first, but when they got to a straight stretch in the road, the driver urged the horses to go faster. The chain linking the men together was attached in the center of the chain between each man's ankles, so they had to walk with their feet apart. Running was not an easy proposition and even worse trying to run in a rhythm that would prevent the five of them from stepping on each other.

They were already tired, and when the first man tripped and fell, his head was jerked forward, sending his feet into the man behind him. The rest fell backward like dominoes, and while the back four were being dragged by their feet, the front man was being dragged by his neck with the weight of all four men pulling him back, effectively hanging him.

The wagon continued to roll for a short while longer, and when it stopped, all the men slowly got to their feet, except the first one, who hadn't yet caught his breath. His neck was bloody from the pull of rough rope around it. "Get 'em all turned around," said the man in charge as he walked back to Joe. "It was your job to keep them up. You failed."

"It's not hard to fail an impossible job," said Joe angrily.

The boss started to turn away, and removing his gun from the holster, he quickly spun around catching Joe on the side of the face with the butt of the gun, sending Joe to the ground. He lay still, keeping his eyes closed against the flashing lights he was seeing. He breathed deeply, trying to settle his dizziness. Hands grabbed his arms, pulling him to his feet, and he staggered forward, bumping into the man chained in front of him.

"Get him in the front."

The other two men pushed him forward, causing him to fall to his knees. When they grabbed him under his arms, he yelled out and pulled away, then stumbled forward on his own. He had lost the sleeve that was protecting his armpit. He not only felt blood running down his side, but raising his hand to the side of his face, he found a cut above his eye. Blood was running down his face. The man who had been in the front was placed behind Joe. Now, the rope was around Joe's neck.

**Chapter Four**

As luck would have it, Joe's tenure at the front of the rope line began as the wagon was turned up into the hills. The going would be slow as long as they were in those hills. Still, Joe was silently hoping he'd go down. He had planned to wrap his arm around the rope to take the tension off his neck, thereby damaging his arm; something the man in charge didn't want. If that had happened, perhaps the rope around the neck would become a bad idea.

Still, they had walked for miles behind that wagon chained to each other and walking with a gait that was so awkward every muscle in his legs and hips screamed at him. He was sure the other four men were in the same shape.

His armpit was no better. As much as he had tried to hold that arm still, he couldn't while walking up and around those hills. He could feel the blood dry into a scab and then rip open over and over again, and what made it worse was the hair getting caught in the drying blood and balling up, rubbing him raw. Once the sweat started, not only was there the throb of the cut, but the sting that felt like whiskey being poured into the wound and the burning of the flesh that had been rubbed raw. He imagined that combination might drive him insane if he didn't have other things to occupy his mind; things like staying awake to keep walking on ground he could no longer see on legs that only by his fading will were still moving or perhaps like the feeling that his head was going to explode and his face was swollen to twice its size from the blow that had been dealt him earlier.

He was so lost in his pain and thoughts that he didn't notice when the wagon stopped. He walked right into it. The others must have been following him blindly because they all kept right on walking until each reached the back of the man in front of him, then slowly crumpled to the ground and lay motionless from utter exhaustion.

One of the men on horseback rode to the front of the wagon. "Nolan, we ain't going no further with them behind the wagon. All of 'em but that young kid are spent, and he ain't far behind 'em."

Nolan. The head man's name was Nolan. So far, that was the only name Joe had heard.

Nolan scowled and exhaled in disgust. "Line 'em up by the wagon and chain 'em down the side. We'll camp for a few hours. You and Dusty get some sleep in the wagon. The other two can stand guard while the rest of us get some sleep."

"What about you?"

"The only roof I've ever known was stars or clouds. I ain't about to start putting anything else over my head now."

Joe now had another name that belonged to the other man on horseback. Dusty. He also knew that Nolan preferred wide open spaces. He tucked these pieces of information away in his mind like stolen treasures, not knowing how or when he might use them, but believing them valuable all the same.

One of Nolan's men passed around a cup of water to each of the captives, then gave them each a piece of dried meat and a piece of stale bread. They were allowed to relieve themselves, and then were moved to the side of the wagon and chained on closed hooks that lined the length of the sideboard. Their chains weren't long enough to allow them to lie down, so they leaned against the side of the wagon to sleep with their arms hanging above their heads from their chained shackles. This might have been uncomfortable for Joe, but it allowed him to keep his armpit open with no effort.

As tired as he was, the thoughts swirling in his head kept him awake. Adam and Hoss would have gotten home from the dance wondering why he hadn't made it, but not concerned enough at that point to worry. They had all been delayed coming home from inspecting the herd at one time or another for any number of reasons. No, they wouldn't start worrying until the following evening, and they wouldn't find out that he had never made it to the herd until they got there themselves the next day. It would be almost two days before they started looking for him, and God only knew where he was now. His only hope was for good weather. Nolan and his men didn't seem concerned about covering their tracks. His brothers would eventually find his things and follow the wagon tracks. Hoss would define the oddities of any of the horse's shoes, and once they did that, they'd be able to follow them…unless the weather changed. If it rained, there would be no tracks to follow.

Despite the pain all over his body, his exhaustion took over and the sleep that had been eluding him finally came.

**Chapter Five**

He tensed at the sudden realization that he didn't know where he was or how he had gotten there. All he knew was that he felt like someone was holding a red-hot poker to his armpit and at the same time they were squeezing his head in a vise. He was standing, but he didn't understand how. He couldn't feel his legs. But when the shout came to walk, his feet moved like they had a mind of their own with a single imperative to go forward no matter what.

When he stopped moving he found himself in front of a black wall glistening in a light he couldn't see other than its eerie reflection on the wall. He turned to the left and met another wall, just like the first, and turning all the way around he found himself surrounded by four black walls. Below his feet was the same glistening blackness and above him, the same glistening blackness, and panic quickly took over. He was trapped in a chamber of blackness. A voice from somewhere in the distance yelled, "Dig!", and when he didn't, the walls moved inward…just a bit, but they moved. The voice yelled again, "Dig!", and when the walls moved again, he dug his fingers into the blackness and kept digging until he looked at his fingers, seeing only bloody points of bone. He screamed, but there was no sound. No one could hear him. No one would ever hear him again inside the blackness.

Joe jerked, sending searing pain through his head. Opening his eyes, he wondered for a moment if he was still in the black box, but then his eyes focused. It was dark, but he could see stars above him. He looked up at his fingers, and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of flesh and fingernails. A nightmare…when was the last time he'd had a nightmare? He didn't usually remember his nightmares more than a few minutes after he woke, but this one was branded in his consciousness. The word hopeless echoed in his mind, but he shook his head as if to scatter the word. He wasn't ready to have that look in his eyes that he had seen in the other four men. _Adam and Hoss__…__they__'__ll send for Pa, and they__'__ll all come looking. They__'__ll follow the tracks._ _All I have to do is hang on until they get here._

He adjusted legs that were sleeping more soundly than the rest of him. His head hurt, his face ached and his armpit was on fire. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he closed his eyes, hoping sleep would occupy him until it was time to face his captors again. The sound of a deep, rhythmic snore from somewhere close by found him in drowsiness and took him home to his room next to Hoss where all was well as long as he could hear that snore.

Nolan went down the line of feet at the side of the wagon, kicking them. "Stand up you bunch of no count moles." He walked down the line as each man slowly got to his feet, and standing in front of Joe, he grabbed Joe's chin and tilted his head to get a better look at his handiwork. "I'll tell you what, boy. I'll give these other boys a break today. If you open your mouth today, I'll even your face out for you." He laughed as he looked back over his shoulder to see if any of his men were watching. "Wha' d'you think? He looks a little lopsided, don't he?" Shoving Joe's face away, he turned and laughed with his men, then addressed the man whose tongue he had cut out, and said, "You got something to say about it?" sending his men into another round of laughter. "Scully, water 'em and feed 'em, then get 'em in the back of the wagon."

"You don't want 'em to walk today? I'd kinda like to see that young fella's neck stretch just a little."

"No, Scully, not today. Maybe tomorrow. Then we can drag him over the scrub in the desert. We need to make Aurora today, so I can contact the fort and let 'em know to send an escort. Now get 'em fed and in the wagon. We need to move."

Another name…Scully…the short fellow with the long blonde hair.

The stop tonight would be near Aurora, and Aurora would have a telegraph office and most likely a sheriff.

Joe leaned on the jockey box on the side of the wagon. There were only two men on this side of the wagon at the moment, and they were busy saddling their horses. He turned and laid his head down on his arms on the top of the box. Glancing back once more, he slipped his hand under the cover, feeling for anything that might be useful. He found what felt like a short rod and a longer rod, then looking back over his shoulder one more time, he pulled them out of the box and laid his head back down on his arms.

"Hey, what are you doin'?" yelled one of the men.

Just as the man grabbed Joe's shoulder and spun him around, Joe slipped the rods underneath the canvas letting them fall inside the wagon at the same time he kicked the wagon wheel and knocked the box with his elbow to cover the sound of the rods landing.

His heart raced at the thought of what Nolan would do if he was found out, but he kept his voice even with just a touch of a slur. "My head is killing me. I was just laying my head down."

The man unhooked Joe from the side of the wagon and moved him to the back. He handed Joe a cup of water, and when Joe was finished drinking, the man shoved a piece of dried meat and more stale bread into Joe's hand, then ordered him in the wagon. Before Joe sat in his place on the bench he glanced underneath, and seeing the two rods there, he smiled inwardly, then turned and sat quietly, eating his food.

**Chapter Six**

The wagon moved on at a steady pace up the hills, down into the valleys and over the ledges of the road clinging to the side of the mountains. They travelled alternately through short, brushy forests, then through wide expanses of nothing that eventually changed to chaparral. They made one quick stop for necessary reasons, then continued on. As the day dragged on, the heat began to mount until the air inside the canvas of the wagon was sweltering.

Joe was thankful they had ridden most of the day. It gave him a chance to keep his arm still so the cut in his armpit could dry, giving it time to make a deep, well knitted scab that would hopefully stay. The sweat now was only a minor nuisance, and it felt like the swelling in his face had reduced. But with the heat and sweat, came the wearing of the rough metal shackles on his wrists. He knew it wouldn't be long before his wrists were raw and bloody.

After their last break, while the captives were shifting to get comfortable and rattling their chains, Joe took the opportunity to grab the two rods, sliding one into each of his boots. All he could do now was wait until they reached Aurora where Nolan would be short handed, and hopefully, he could use the cover of darkness to slip away. That would only happen if he managed to pry one of the links of the chain apart. He spent the rest of the ride in the daylight studying the chain between his legs and the chain that attached him to the man sitting beside him.

By the time the wagon stopped again, it was dark, and had been for a full hour. No one came to the back of the wagon, but Joe heard Nolan's voice outside. "Dusty, you and Scully, come with me. We'll come back and relieve you two in a couple of hours."

Joe heard the horses trot away. One of the men left behind poked his head into the back of the wagon. "You boys get some sleep while you can. Tomorrow's gonna be real hot. You better pray Nolan let's you walk."

Listening for the sound of movement outside to give way to the crack and pop of a fire, Joe knew the two men that were left were somewhere to the right of the wagon where they could see the back. He was sitting on the left side, and slowly reaching both hands under the canvas, he felt for the bonnet hooks. One by one, he slipped the loops of the bonnet off the hooks, leaving enough room for him to slide between the bonnet and the side of the wagon. Next, he found a link between him and the next man that hadn't been welded, leaving a split in the metal. Setting the small rod, a king pin, under his boot heel to anchor the link, he used the longer rod, a box rod to pry at the split. Looking at the link after his first try, Joe saw that the split was no longer flush. He continued to brace the link and pry it, and after some time, he had bent it enough to slip if off of the next link. He had separated himself from the other men in the wagon.

He stopped and listened, and heard faint chuckles from near the fire. Slipping out of his shirt, he slowly ripped off the other sleeve, then tore the sleeve into two strips. He wrapped his shirt around the chain between his ankles and tied it with the strips, then lifted his feet and shook them, proving the shirt muffled the sound of the chains.

Taking a deep breath, he went head-first under the bonnet. He caught himself on the side of the wagon, swung both feet down to the ground, and then slipped away into the night. Having no idea which way to go, he went to high ground hoping to see the flickering lanterns of Aurora. With his eyes adjusted to the dark, he walked up a hill, and reaching the top, realized he was in a cemetery, the white stone monoliths glowing eerily in the dark. As he walked through them, he wondered about the souls buried there, thinking he could soon be joining them. Taking a deep breath to chase such thoughts away, he spotted Aurora spread out before him in a small valley just beyond the cemetery.

From the top of the hill, halfway down, the land changed from scrub forest to chaparral. Walking became difficult, not only because of the dark, but the small desert sage bushes caught and pulled at the chain between his ankles. He had to bend and hold the chain up, paying more attention to where he stepped to avoid the brush.

Finally, he squatted in a shadow at the side of a building, looking up and down the street. He had never been in Aurora and had no idea where the sheriff's office was. The street he was on appeared to be the main street of the town, so it was just a matter of walking down behind the buildings to find the sheriff's office.

He looked for a building with bars in the back window, and when he found it, he eased to the side and watched the front door and the street. When he saw a break in the bustle along the street, he quietly shuffled up onto the porch and quickly stepped inside, going straight to the man sitting at the desk.

"Sheriff, I've been kidnapped and need help," he said, holding up his shackled arms.

The sheriff dropped his pencil on the desk and sat back in his chair. "Son, you aren't the first man who come in here wearing irons and claiming he was kidnapped. And I'll tell you, most of the ones wearing army issue irons are prisoners trying to escape."

The muscles in Joe's jaws flexed as he gritted his teeth. "Sheriff, I'm not a prisoner. My name is…" The sound was instantly cut off by a blow to the back of his head.

"Now, Nolan, wha' d'you have to go an' do a thing like that for? The boy was about to tell me his name."

"His name don't matter. He's one of mine."

"Yours? Well, get him out of here. And make sure that darn army scout don't see you. I don't want that fort commander comin' in here 'cause his precious mine has been found out."

Nolan grabbed Joe's wrist chain and dragged him out the door and into the alley.

**Chapter Seven**

Joe spat and sputtered from the seemingly endless stream of water hitting him in the face. When the water finally stopped, and he shook it off his face, he saw Nolan standing over him with a malevolent smile.

"You're not too bright, are you boy?"

Slowly sitting up, Joe propped his arms on his knees and hung his head. "You've got the sheriff in your back pocket."

"Not exactly. He's afraid the army will come in and make him disappear…just like you did. Now get up." Joe took a deep, disgusted breath and clambered to his feet. Nolan untied his horse at the entrance to the alley and brought him forward, removing a rope from the saddle and tying one end around Joe's neck. "You open your mouth to yell, and I'll put a bullet in your back."

"Aren't you afraid that'll bring a crowd?"

"You're a prisoner as far as they're concerned. Besides, not one of 'em'll care as long as they don't end up in the back of my wagon. Now, you head straight up that hill back to the cemetery."

As Joe walked, the chain of his ankle shackles caught on the sage brush, sending him to the ground more than once. Each time Joe fell Nolan pulled back on the rope, cutting off his air and digging it into his flesh. By the time Joe made it to the top of the hill, he was struggling to breathe. Once he was in the forest away from the brush, he was able to keep his footing. Staggering into camp, he caught himself on the back of the wagon to keep from falling to the ground again.

Nolan dismounted and untied the rope from Joe's neck, then left him there, knowing he was too spent to run. He called the two men who had been left behind. "You two, get over here!" They had heard that venom in Nolan's voice before and quickly scrambled to their feet. When they saw Nolan's face, his lip curled into a teeth-baring snarl. They pulled their hats off and stood like two school boys caught pulling the girls pigtails in the schoolyard. "Do either one of you wanna explain how this boy got down to the sheriff's office?"

The men looked at each other wide-eyed. "Honest, Nolan. We didn't hear nothin'."

"You two ain't got nothin' under your hat but hair." Nolan looked up into the trees, and when he'd found what he was looking for, he called the two men over. "You see that branch right there. Get two boxes out of the wagon boot to stand on, and hang that boy by his wrist chain from it."

Once the boxes were under the tree branch, one of the men brought Joe over. "Step up there," he said, pointing to the box. Joe did as he was ordered, and the other man released one of the shackles, stepped up on the second box and threw the chain over the branch, relocking the shackle. He stepped down and kicked both boxes away, leaving Joe hanging above the ground no more than two inches.

Joe yelled out when the box was kicked out from under him. He knew his shoulders could handle his weight for a little while, but he hadn't thought about the edges of shackles digging into the flesh under his thumb and the other side of his hand. He laid his head against an arm, and closed his eyes. Sweat was beginning to drip down his forehead, and he clenched his teeth fighting the need to scream out.

"Nolan, how long you reckon it'll be before them shackles tears the skin right off his hands?"

"He won't be hanging long enough for that to happen. He'll need those hands. But you two take a good long look, 'cause this is what's gonna happen to you if you let one of these prisoners escape again." Nolan walked over to his horse and pulled a whip off the side of the saddle. "You know how to use a whip?" he said as he flung it out and cracked it against Joe's back. Joe flinched, then bit down on his lip to squelch a scream. "Give him twenty lashes."

Both men hesitated, and Nolan cracked the whip right across the face of one of them, sending the man cowering and whimpering to the ground. "You boys better get used to it. This is what your job is from now on, and if you can't handle it, I'll put you in the back of that wagon to work in the mines. Now give that boy his lashes," he yelled.

The other man took the whip and cracked it, just to see if he could. When the next crack went across Joe's back, he tensed, his nostrils flared, and his eyes closed tightly as he bit down hard on his lip. A man gets to a point when the pain is just too much for his mind to handle, and thankfully, it shuts down. Joe's mind shut down on lash number fourteen. His head fell forward, and Nolan stilled the arm of the man with the whip. "You boys take a good look at your work." The man with the whip, stood there, looking, but the other man turned away. Nolan grabbed a handful of his hair and pushed him over to Joe. "Look, boy," he said through gritted teeth. "Get used to it. This is how punishment is doled out at the mines. You're liable to have to do this every day, and if you can't, you're no good to me or the army. Now get him down and in the back of the wagon. I'm going back for Dusty and Scully. I'll tell the sheriff to send the telegram in the morning."

Before Nolan had disappeared into the darkness, the two men had Joe down. When they were sure Nolan was gone, the man who had done the whipping unwrapped Joe's shirt from around the ankle chain. Looking at Joe's back, he said, "It ain't the worst I've seen, but it'll smart for awhile. His shirt'll help keep it clean."

"Why do you care if it's clean?"

"Because if he dies from infection, Nolan might just decide to replace him with one of us. We best keep him alive if we can."

**Chapter Eight**

When Dusty looked into the wagon, he saw the original four prisoners sitting on both sides with Joe lying in the middle face down. Dusty grabbed Joe's boot and shook it, but there was no movement. Joe felt it, but lay still, hoping they'd leave him alone. He knew the longer he could rest, the better off he'd be.

"Nolan, if you want him to work in the mine, how come you darn near killed him?" chuckled Dusty.

"Oh, he ain't close to dead," said Nolan, looking in the back of the wagon. And he ain't fooling anyone into thinking that he ain't listening," he said more loudly to make sure Joe could hear him. He tossed a pine cone at Joe's back, causing Joe to flinch. "See, he's awake. He's never been a prisoner before, so he has to be taught who's the boss. When a man first comes to prison, you have to break him. He won't give you any more trouble after you do."

Joe lay silent in the back of the wagon, holding his hands to his chest to try to stop the bleeding. He knew he had some open wounds on his back, but he had no idea just how bad it was. Regardless, it burned. He knew it would burn worse tomorrow from sweating in the desert heat. Still, he needed to try to block out the pain so he could think. Perhaps the best thing he could do as long as he was with Nolan was to keep quiet and do what he was told. Maybe another chance to escape would present itself at the mine. Even so, if the mine was deep in the desert, he'd have no place to go. He wouldn't survive on his own in the desert without food, water and shelter. Fighting back tears, he admonished himself for starting to feel hopeless, vowing for his eyes never to look like the others. _They__'__ll come for me. They__'__ll follow the tracks, and they__'__ll come for me. I just have to hold on._

Joe lay still while Nolan's men broke camp. When the wagon lurched forward, he was surprised that he and the other four men weren't herded out to walk. Then he thought that Nolan might not do anything more to him for fear the army wouldn't want him, and Nolan wouldn't get paid.

The interior of the wagon began to lighten as morning approached, and it didn't take long to feel the heat of the sun, even underneath the canvas. It would soon feel like an oven in the wagon. Joe hoped Nolan would give them water and let them walk.

When the wagon came to a stop, Nolan did order them out, but the outside air wasn't as welcoming as Joe had hoped. With no tree cover, no shadows, and the reds and tans of the soil reflecting the heat, the outside was just as sweltering as the inside. He had already begun to sweat before he was out of the wagon, and though he could still hold his hands against his chest to protect them, sweat was rolling down his back and into the wounds caused by the whip, burning and stinging.

The captives were given their water, dried meat and bread. "Nolan, ain't we gonna tie 'em to the wagon," asked Scully, smiling expectantly at Joe.

"Look around you," said Nolan. "If they try to run, where they gonna go? Besides, making 'em walk across Death Valley is worse than anything I can do to 'em. We'll wait here for the army escort. Can't do anything else besides make 'em walk anyway without the soldiers mouthin' off to the captain."

Joe looked around. There was nothing but miles and miles of…nothing, except for the mountains in the distance that were just higher elevations of nothing. He sat down right where he was, hoping that it wouldn't be long before the army escort arrived. He had come to the conclusion that the sooner they got to the mine, the better. At least he'd be deep in the earth where it was likely to be cooler.

An hour passed, and the sound of horses carried on the hot air from off in the distance. A cloud of dust could be seen slowly getting bigger and bigger until the dust fell down upon them like rain. A total of eight soldiers had appeared when the dust had settled.

One of the men dismounted and walked around the prisoners. He was a sergeant based on his stripes. He stood staring at Joe. "Nolan, what's this?"

"An able body, Sir."

"Looks like a broken body to me. What happened to him?"

"Well, Sir, he was a newer prisoner, and the way it was explained to me, he hadn't learned his place."

The sergeant scowled at Nolan. "These wounds are fresh. What did he do to deserve a whipping?"

"He tried to escape. He got no less than he would'a got back at the prison."

"I'm not a prisoner."

"What did you say, son?"

Joe's head had been hanging, but he raised it and looked straight ahead of him. "I said I'm not a prisoner."

"Where's your paperwork, Nolan," asked the sergeant, glaring.

"Right here in the wagon." Nolan took a piece of folded leather out of the jockey box and handed it to the sergeant.

The sergeant looked at the paperwork and turned around and counted. "Five. And five you have." He called up one of the soldiers.

"Yes Sir," said the young man, saluting.

"Dress this man's wounds. And take those shackles off his wrists. He won't do the army any good if he dies from infection."

Nolan stepped forward warily. "Uh, Sergeant, this boy's a bad one. Are you sure you wanna take off his chains?"

"Nolan, you know as well as I that he's not going anywhere out here. Not unless he has a death wish. Now get these men water. We'll be moving out as soon as he's bandaged."

Spitting on the ground at Joe's feet, Nolan turned to his men. "You heard the sergeant. Get 'em watered."

"When did you get whipped?" asked the soldier tending Joe's wounds.

Joe turned to see his face. It was a boy's face, probably still a teenager. "Last night. I tried to get help from the sheriff in Aurora, but apparently, he's a friend of Nolan's. I'm not a prisoner. Nolan's prisoner died, probably at Nolan's hand. He had to have five, so he took me off my family's ranch."

"Mister, I don't need to hear your story. It don't make no difference. The army's not particular about who does the diggin', and the Captain…he don't want any trouble. Trouble tends to disappear a might quickly. You wanna stay alive, you'll keep your mouth shut."

Joe shook his head and looked away. "Who'd want to stay alive to be a slave in a mine?"

"You'd be surprised how many men do just that. I guess they figure the real Hell is worse than the one they're in. I'm done here," said the soldier as he stood up, nodded to the sergeant and went back to his horse.

"Alright men. On your feet. We're expected at the mine by tomorrow evening, and we have a lot of desert to cover."

Three soldiers and the sergeant rode ahead, followed by the wagon and Nolan's men. Next were the five prisoners, and last were the other four soldiers. The other four captives had been unchained from each other, and their wrist shackles had been removed. They walked haphazardly behind Nolan's men. Joe walked further off to the side to avoid the dust kicked up by the wagon and the horses. No one seemed to care. There really was nowhere to go.

**Chapter Nine**

Joe was glad that the army provided an escort, even if they did turn a blind eye to Nolan's interpretation of a prisoner. The sergeant made sure the captives got plenty of water, and later in the day gave them the choice of riding in the wagon or walking. As far as Joe was concerned, he'd be in a place much too soon where he wouldn't be able to see the outside world, so he chose to walk and see wide open spaces rather than the inside of a canvas bonnet.

When darkness fell, the sergeant stopped to give his men a few hours of sleep. Joe drank his water and ate the same rations, then lay down where he had been sitting…on his stomach with his head lying on his arms to protect his back. He was tired and managed to doze, but the pain of his hands and back made sleeping soundly impossible.

Most of the next day was just like the last. The scenery never changed except for the color of nothing. The mountains took on a purple hue in the distance. Joe didn't know if that was the color of the rock and dirt there or if it was the color of the haze. It seemed to him that this was probably the most useless place on earth with its long vistas of dry dirt and rock and the occasional life that skittered away from him on the ground. But even though it was hot and barren, he began to feel at peace with it. It was unpretentious, quiet and simple in its landscape and life.

The nothingness of the desert changed to movement off in the distance. Squinting to block the blinding brightness of the son, Joe's mouth dropped open at the sight of what he assumed was the mine. He saw a gaping hole high up on a rock face. In front of the mine were a few makeshift buildings and a fenced structure with beams across it. The only activity he saw was a handful of men loading ore into a smelter that belched thick black smoke high into the air. Then he caught sight of a bucket slowly dropping from the mouth of the mine.

Nolan turned in his saddle toward the captives. "Take a good look at it boys. Home sweet home," he said, laughing.

The distance to the mine from where they were was another mile. When they arrived, the sergeant took the paperwork into one of the shacks and brought Nolan's payment back. "You need to stick around, Nolan. We don't need any more prisoners right now, but I'm sure if we lose more than a couple, the captain will send you back for more. You and your men will be fed while you're here."

Nolan and his men moved the wagon next to the shacks and made camp in the shadows of the buildings.

The prisoners entered the building one by one while the sergeant recorded their names and the date they arrived in the record books along with the release date from their prison records. When Joe gave the sergeant his name, the sergeant looked at the prison paperwork and sat back in his chair, studying Joe. He sighed and leaned back up. "Says here your name is Talbot. That's good enough for me."

Joe watched the sergeant check off Talbot's name. Next to the release date, he wrote 'life'. Leaving the paperwork on the desk, the sergeant rose and stood by the door. "Let's go."

Staring at the papers on the desk, Joe clenched his fists, wanting to yell at the man to tell him he knew it wasn't true. He forced his anger back, knowing he could still end up in a grave marked with the name Talbot. If that happened his family would never find him…dead or alive.

Turning slowly, he followed the other prisoners as they walked to the fenced area where chains hanging from beams were attached to their ankle chains. "You boys will rest this evening. You'll start work tomorrow. You'll be fed with the others when they come out of the mine."

Joe sat watching the activity around him. Every few minutes a bucket was lowered from the mouth of the mine, and men from the smelter went to collect the rocks in two huge canvas satchels that they carried on their backs to the smelter. The only other motion was the guards posted on all sides of the yard patrolling back and forth, Joe assumed, watching for Indians.

He started counting the days he'd been gone. _Two nights on the trail__…__or was it three, one night at Aurora, and one night in the desert. Five or six days, maybe. Adam and Hoss would know by now and would__'__ve sent for Pa. They would have known they might lose the trail if they waited. It would be Adam who started trailing us. He__'__d be feeling guilty because he was the one who stayed home; because he was the one in charge, and I was his responsibility. Hoss would wait for Pa. Adam__'__s already on his way. _All he could do was hope he knew his brothers that well. He wasn't ready to become hopeless.

When the men came out of the mine, they dutifully entered the fenced area and stood by their chains until a soldier came by and shackled them. Their arms hung limp at their sides, their feet shuffled across the ground, and their eyes were…lifeless. The evening meal was the same dried meat, stale bread and water, and when they had finished, the men laid down. No one had spoken a word.

The soldier who had dressed Joe's wounds came back and changed his bandages, speaking in a low voice after he looked around them. "Your back isn't bad. If you do your work and keep your mouth shut, it'll heal." Looking at Joe's hands, he said, "There's not much I can do here. They don't put shackles on your wrists unless you try to use your fists, so stay out of trouble, and they'll heal." Without another word, he was gone.

Joe laid back and rolled onto his stomach, laying his head on his arms. He closed his eyes and prayed that sleep would take him, at least for little while.

**Chapter Ten**

Adam Cartwright rode into the mining town of Aurora and made his way to the saloon. The eighty miles or so from Virginia City had been long, hot, and dusty, and he was looking forward to a cold beer. As he drank, he turned and looked around the saloon, surveying the faces. When he sat his empty mug back down on the bar, the bartender brought him another beer. "I wonder if you could help me," said Adam, turning to the bartender. "I'm trying to find someone who's supposed to be here in town."

"I pretty much know everyone here. What's his name?" asked the bartender as he wiped out a whiskey glass.

"Dutton. Mike Dutton. A friend in Virginia City told me he might be here."

The bartender straightened and looked at him suspiciously. "Wha'da you want him for?"

Adam took a long drink of the newly arrived beer. "I need a guide, and I was told he was the best one around."

"Well, that'd be right, if'n he's willin'. You'll find Dutton at the livery."

Adam chugged the last of his beer, dropped a dollar coin on the bar, tipped his hat to the bartender and left the saloon. He walked Sport to the livery, stuck his head in the barn door and called out, "Hello?"

No one answered from the barn, but as Adam turned to walk to the corral, a skinny fellow in buckskin pants and a loose jacket came around the corner, and seeing Adam standing there, he stopped dead in his tracks. "Who are you?"

"My name is Cartwright. I'm looking for a guide by the name of Mike Dutton."

The man had several bridles looped over both arms. He walked past Adam toward the barn and disappeared inside. Adam followed him and stood in the door, waiting for an answer. Once the man had the bridles hanging on the wall, he turned to Adam. Sunlight from the open barn door brightened the dull interior of the barn around the shadow Adam cast, allowing him to see the man's face. He studied it for a moment, straining to see in the shadow cast over the face by the man's hat. When his eyes adjusted, he realized the facial features of this person were too soft for this to be a man. He was speaking with a woman.

"I'd appreciate it if you could tell me where I could find Mike Dutton."

"Wha'da you want him for?"

Adam chuckled. It seemed everyone he asked about Mike Dutton wanted to know the same thing. "I want to hire him as a guide."

"What for?" asked the woman guardedly.

Adam took a deep breath, shifting his weight to the other leg. "That would be between Mr. Dutton and me."

She went about her business in the barn. "Well, the only way you can get to Mike Dutton is through me, so suppose you tell me exactly what you want, and I will think about telling him."

"Are you his wife?"

She laughed as she threw some hay into a stall trough and motioned to Adam to let Sport eat. "Dutton is not married and probably never will be. Let us just say I am his conscience." She carried a bucket of water into the stall and came back out. "Where d'you wanna go?" she asked, leaning back on a post, fiddling with a stem of hay.

"Death Valley," answered Adam as he loosened the cinch around Sport's stomach.

She narrowed her eyes, looking sideways at him. "Why in the name of all that is sacred would you wanna go there? Do you not know the Aha macave and Shoshoni are at war against the white man? You would not do well to go there…white man," she added disdainfully. As she spoke, she moved into a ray of sunlight coming in from the open door and took her hat off, allowing her hair to fall over her shoulders.

Adam looked over Sport's back and could see that her face was tanned, he assumed, from working in the corral in the sunlight. Her hair was a light brown, but had lighter streaks that told of time in the sun. He moved his attention back to his saddle. "I have no choice."

"Everyone has choices, Mr. Cartwright. Why is this your only choice?"

"I'm tracking someone who took something from me."

"What did he take?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, glancing back up at her.

She snorted. "Mike Dutton does not take anyone into Death Valley without a good reason, and so far, you have not given one."

Adam stepped out of the stall and looked at her with stolid iciness. "They took my brother."

The woman straightened and tossed the stem of hay to the side. She glanced at his horse, a well cared for animal. His saddle was an expensive one. She looked carefully at Adam. He wore nice clothes, nicer than other cowboys in town wore. His hair was cut and neat, and his fingernails were clean though it was apparent he had not shaved or bathed for several days. Even the way he carried himself, with purpose and confidence, told her this was a well-bred man of means. His quiet self-assurance, and the way he wore his gun comfortably, like it was a part of him, suggested he could take care of himself. "Come with me, Mr. Cartwright. You may speak with Mike." She led him through a door at the back of the barn, across an alley and into a modest house. "Would you like something to drink? I have coffee, whiskey, and water."

Adam looked around the sparsely furnished room, noticing that there was only one bed. "Miss, I'm in a hurry to leave. May I speak to Mr. Dutton?"

"Relax, Mr. Cartwright. Please, sit," she said, pointing to a chair at the table in the middle of the only room in the house. "Are the men who took your brother white men?"

"Yes, they are," he answered, still standing.

"Then they are at a disadvantage if they are going into the valley of the Shoshoni and the desert of the Aha macave. Why do you think they are going into the desert?"

Adam exhaled heavily, pursing his lips in aggravation, but sat down, understanding that he would only see Mike Dutton when she was ready for him to see Mike Dutton. "If they keep going south, and they have since they left Virginia City, they have to go into Death Valley." He hesitated. "Isn't Mike Dutton a white man?"

She smiled. "I will tell you about Mike Dutton." She sat in the other chair, watching him look at the bowl of apples on the table. "Please," she said, slightly pushing the bowl toward him. "The first Mike Dutton was a white man who married a Shoshoni woman. They had a child and named him Mike, who married an Aha macave woman. They also had a child named Mike. So, you see, there is more Indian blood in Mike Dutton than white blood."

Adam took a bite of an apple and sat silently studying her. It wasn't just her face that was tanned. Her hands and what he could see of her arms and neck were smooth, unblemished and bronze. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and her hair was not the coal black of Indian hair. He realized Indian blood ran through her veins, but he also knew it was mixed with white blood. "Is your name really Mike, or is that just what they call you?"

She slightly grinned and sat back in her chair. "Ah, Mr. Cartwright, you have solved the riddle. My parents called me Michael, not Mike. But since my father died, I have been Mike to everyone."

"Well, Michael," he began, while raising one eyebrow and looking her square in the eyes. "I can understand your ability to deal with the Shoshoni, but what about the Mojave? I don't think I've ever heard of a friendly Mojave."

She smiled. "It would be better if you learned to use Aha macave, not the name the white man gave them." She paused and pursed her lips. "The Aha macave can be a problem, but we will do our best to avoid them."

"How much?"

Her nostrils flared as she looked down at the table. _Fools__…__they always want to negotiate._ She answered, looking gravely into his eyes, "That depends."

"On what?" he asked, meeting the severity of her gaze.

"On whether we come out of this alive."

Adam chewed another bite of apple as he thought. She came very highly recommended, or did she? Could it have been her father the old man in Virginia City remembered? Still, the bartender seemed protective of her, and she certainly didn't let it be known to strangers who she was unless she was given a good reason. She was careful, but that still didn't mean she was a skilled guide. "Miss Dutton, I don't mean to slight you, but I have some concerns about hiring a woman as a guide."

"Then go find someone else if you have the time to waste," she responded aloofly.

He raised his eyebrows and drew his chin upward, nodding. _Alright then._ "Thank you for the apple," he said and left.

**Chapter Eleven**

Adam walked out into the blistering sunlight, squinting after being inside the dim shack. He made his way back to the saloon.

"You again. What'll it be?" asked the bartender.

"I've been tracking some riders, probably five or six, and a wagon. Have you seen anything like that here?"

"More n' once."

"What do you mean?"

The bartender leaned over the bar, looking around them before he spoke quietly. "It's the lead mines in the desert. Men go in; they don't come out. A man's out riding alone, he could end up in one of those wagons."

A man wearing buckskin walked into the saloon, stood eyeing the bartender for a moment, then went to a table and sat, watching everything that happened in the room. The bartender leaned back, slightly nodding toward the man. "Army scout," he said, handing Adam a beer.

Adam scratched his ear. "Are there any other guides in town?" he asked.

The bartender chuckled and continued quietly, keeping his eye on the scout. "She turned you down. Reason wasn't good enough, eh? Mister, if she won't go, no one else will."

"Why is that?"

"She's spent most of her life in the desert with her father. The Indians know her. She knows their ways. And even though the Mojave don't appreciate her white blood, they allow her in their lands. Because of the war, they'll kill anyone else on sight, and the white guides here know that." He stopped to wipe out a glass, glancing back up at Adam, who was looking at him warily. "A word of advice, Mister. If anyone else finds out you went to her first, and she's not taking you, you won't find any takers." He snorted, cutting his eyes back at Adam with an envious smile. "She'll keep you alive."

Adam blew out his cheeks, and pushed himself away from the bar, dropping a coin. "Thanks," he said, tipping his hat.

"Mister," called the bartender. Adam turned around. "Be careful who you talk to," he said, glancing over Adam's shoulder at the Army scout. "Trust is a funny thing." Adam nodded and left, walking over to the telegraph office then back to the livery.

Mike was mucking stalls when Adam came in and walked over to Sport's stall. At first, he watched her, wondering if she knew anything about the lead mines. If she was part of the Aha macave, surely she would know.

"Mike, would you answer a question for me?" She looked up at him then continued her work, saying nothing. "What do you know about the lead mines?"

She stopped, propping her hands on the end of the pitchfork handle. "The white man has many mines in the desert, both gold and silver. It is easy to get men to work in those mines. But the lead mines are not so. The lead mines are cruel places. The men are given barely enough to live, and meet their deaths in cave-ins or by the weight of a falling rock or by starvation. They are replaced quietly and quickly. No one knows where they come from. Is this what you think has happened to your brother?"

"He could have been taken for money, and we just haven't received a demand yet."

She snorted. "You found his horse, with nothing missing. You found his gun. You found any personal things he carried…a watch, a photograph...everything that could identify him. You found wagon tracks nearby. True?"

Adam's mouth opened slightly as he stared at her. "I've been tracking a wagon and five or six horses."

She continued mucking the stall as she spoke. "There is nowhere in the desert where anyone would want to hide if they wanted money. If your brother was taken into the desert, it would be to work in the lead mines. Chances are someone died along the way, and he was replaced by your brother. The men are tied like animals in covered wagons. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Do you know the way to the mines?"

She propped the pitchfork against a wall and motioned for him to follow her. When they were in her cabin, she looked out the door before she closed it then went to the window, looking. "You cannot go into the desert alone by the road or you will be taken for the lead mines."

"How do I go in?"

"You left to find another guide. Did you?" She turned to him, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow…waiting.

Adam held his hands out to his sides as if in surrender. "I apologize."

She harrumphed. They usually came back begging. But then, he didn't look like the type to beg. "You got a first name white man?"

"Adam."

"Get your tack from the barn and bring it here. We will talk."

**Chapter Twelve**

When Adam came back to the shack, he waited for her to tell him where to put his saddle. She pointed to the floor against the wall opposite her bed. "If I take you it will not be easy. You must live as the Shoshoni and the Aha macave; off the land. You must learn their ways. You must act like an Indian. This is the only way to pass the Army scouts unnoticed. Can you do that?"

"I can if you teach me."

"We must go as husband and wife. The Indians accept me. This is the only way that the Shoshoni and Aha macave will accept you."

Adam creased his brow. "You are Shoshoni and Aha macave. Why wouldn't they accept you?"

"I have white blood," she said, shamefully looking down and away. She turned away from him, breathed deeply then walked back to him, looking up into his face, her eyes warning. "You must do as I say. Our lives will depend on it." He nodded. She motioned for him to follow her back to the barn, first looking surreptitiously out the door, then hurrying through the back door of the barn.

She began to gather everything they could carry on two horses. They had to travel quickly, light and unseen, so a pack animal was out of the question. "Someone will be here to take care of your horse, and your tack is safe in my home."

"Won't I be riding my horse?"

"No."

He waited for an explanation that didn't come. "Why not?"

"Your horse will not survive in the desert. And your saddle will give us away. Have you ever ridden bareback?"

"Yes, but not for long."

"Do you think you can for the whole trip? It would be better if you can."

"I'll manage."

"You do not talk much, do you?"

"Not when I have nothing to say."

"Practice talking. The Aha macave are talkers. You are not an emotional man?"

"I can be pushed to anger."

She laughed. "Become emotional…with all emotions. The Aha macave are an emotional people. They consider it disrespectful to hold in emotions."

"I thought you said we were going to avoid the Mo…the Aha macave."

"I said we would try. I did not say we would be successful, and it is likely we will not. They will know where we are by the time we are ten miles out of town."

"You seem more worried about the Aha macave than the Shoshoni."

"My grandmother is with the Shoshoni, and they are not as…unwelcoming…as the Aha macave. The Shoshoni will find us first. When the white soldiers came to remove them from their land, they fought. Many of the Aha macave allowed the soldiers to move them, but there are still small numbers fighting to keep their lands."

Adam watched as she gathered skins, blankets, leather straps, knives, several pokes of water, and strings. He noticed there were no pans, no coffee pot, no scabbard for a rifle, and when she pulled out two bows and two quivers of arrows, he got nervous. Still, he watched in silence. When she had everything packed into what looked like baskets held together with leather straps, she straightened up and without looking at him she said, "Come with me."

They walked back into the shack, and she immediately went to the stove and started cooking. "You will sleep there," she said, pointing to where he had laid his belongings on the floor on the opposite side of the room from the bed. She pulled salt bacon off the shelf, placing it in a pan to fry while she started beans and coffee. While the food was cooking, she opened a trunk at the foot of her bed and pulled out more skins. "Stand up straight so I can see you." He obliged. "Turn around." He did as he was told. She pulled several items from the trunk along with what looked like boots, and what he swore was a buckskin skirt. "Is your brother bigger or smaller than you?"

"He's smaller."

She pulled out more skins and laid everything on a small table beside the door then went back to the stove. "From this time on, I will not call you by your last name. You will be known only as Adam. If the Aha macave give you a name, you will be known by that name. You will call me Mike. Nothing else. Do you understand?" Adam nodded as she prepared two plates of food. She placed them on the table along with the coffee pot and two cups. "Come. Eat."

He sat down at the table, and started looking for a fork. She watched him and waited for him to look up. "You must get used to eating with your fingers. The Aha macave and Shoshoni do not use forks. If you are eating meat, you may stab it with your knife. Watch." She dipped two fingers into the beans, holding the plate at her chin and shoveling them into her mouth.

"I get the feeling we're leaving behind the comforts of home."

She nodded at his plate. "Try it."

He wiped his hand on his trousers, picked up his plate, and hesitated, then dipped two fingers into the beans as she had and shoveled them into his mouth. A look of dread took over his face. "Mesquite beans," he said with a full mouth.

She looked disdainfully at him. "We will live on what we can find. There will be no bacon and no coffee, so enjoy it while you can. We will rest during the day and travel at night. You will not take your clothes…any of them…or your hat. Do not take anything in your pockets. I will allow you to take your gun, but it will be hidden in one of the baskets. It may be useful when we find your brother."

After they had finished eating, Mike collected the dishes and washed them. She turned back to Adam who was just finishing his last cup of coffee for awhile, drinking it slowly, enjoying it. "We will sleep until dark. Then we will pack the horses and go." Adam went to his saddle, laying out his bedroll on the underside. "Sleep on the floor, not your saddle. You will be sleeping on the ground. Get used to it."

He breathed heavily, wondering what he had gotten himself into, raising his eyebrows and nodding to himself, thinking he had no choice. When he stood to remove his gun belt, he looked at her and sucked in a breath of embarrassment, turning around at the same time.

She had removed her pants, stripping down to nothing and had begun to remove her shirt. She turned and stood, looking at his back. "You must become accustomed to this as well. You will bathe with my family and you will sleep in my lodge. Otherwise, you will be left alone and will be killed and I will be…pursued. I cannot protect you any other way." Adam stood with his hands in his back pockets unwilling to turn around. "Do you want to find your brother?"

"Of course I do."

"Then turn around and remove your clothes." Adam stood, thinking this through. This was uncomfortable…he would never think about looking at an unclothed woman under any circumstances but marriage…and maybe in a brothel. But, if he was going to save Joe, it appeared he had no choice. He decided he'd keep his eyes on her eyes and by doing that, he wouldn't really be…looking. He slowly turned around, found her, and looked at her eyes.

She watched him and laughed. "A gentleman, I see. You need to forget your upbringing and act like a man. If you don't, you will be laughed at and exiled, if not killed. You will not cast your eyes upon another woman with desire. You will not sit next to another woman. You will not offer another woman food. You will not speak to another woman unless talk is started by her man. You will not help another woman outside of my family in any way. Do you understand?" He nodded. She walked to the table next to the door and pulled out some of the skins she had placed there earlier. You will wear these." She threw a handful of skins to him…buckskin pants, a breechcloth, a long white shirt and belt, and a pair of buckskin boots. You will dress in this, and only this tonight."

"What about…?" he said, moving his eyes away and crooking his jaw.

"My people do not wear under clothes. I will tell you what else you need to know tonight. We must rest." With that, she closed the curtain in the only window in the cabin and lay down on the bed, turning away from him.

Adam undressed down to his drawers, hesitated for a moment, looking back to see that she was still turned away, and then dropped them and lay down to sleep.

**Chapter Thirteen**

Joe awoke to the sound of metal banging together. When he raised his head, he saw what was making the noise. A soldier was walking outside the fence…all the way around it, banging two pots together. The men around him rose to a sitting position and waited until water and what Joe would come to know as mine rations were handed out. The men were given fifteen minutes to eat. Then, one by one, they were unshackled and taken to a privy where a soldier waited outside. Once his business was finished in the privy, the man was escorted to a ladder that had been propped against the rock face for the prisoners to climb up into the mine.

Joe did what he saw the other men do. When he was inside the mine, he was pulled to the side and taken down a short shaft into a large room filled with crates. "New man," said the soldier who brought him in. The soldier there handed him a sledge hammer, a chisel and a smaller hammer. "You'll leave these where you're assigned to dig at the end of the day."

Next, he was taken down a long shaft to a black, glistening wall at the end. "All you have to do is cut rock out of this wall. When you have as many rocks as you can carry in one load, take 'em back up the shaft to the bucket, then come back and cut more rock." There was one soldier at this end of the shaft, sitting in a chair well away from the three men who cut into the wall. Joe looked around him. He was in a black box with the same black, glistening walls above, below and all around him. He shivered and watched the two other men use the chisel and the small hammer to start a crack, then use the sledge to drive the chisel deeper into the rock, fracturing it until a piece fell to the ground. He began hammering the chisel all the while thinking. It had still been dark outside when he entered the mine. He had no idea of the time, and was sure that in only a few days, he would lose track. There was no way to escape. The ladder was removed once the prisoners were in the mine, and the drop was too far to jump without breaking a leg. This was no way to live, and though some of these men must be afraid to die, he surely wasn't. _I have to hold on. Adam will be here soon._

The men were given a break after several hours of work. They were huddled into another large room and made to squat down as they ate their rations. Looking around, he realized he was surrounded by just as many Indians as white men. He hadn't seen any Indians in the yard the night before. He guessed they must be kept in the mine out of sight of the Indians in the desert.

On what he thought was the third day, trouble began while they were eating. One of the white prisoners took the dried meat from one of the Indians. The Indian stood, but the two soldiers in that room quickly stepped in front of him. "Get back down, savage, or I'll scalp you and send you out into the sun."

Joe stood up. "That man took his food. If you need to discipline someone it should be him," said Joe, pointing to the man that had taken the beef.

The soldier stood in front of Joe. "You're one of the new prisoners, ain't you?" Joe flared his nostrils and looked away. The soldier quickly shoved the butt of his rifle into Joe's stomach, doubling Joe over. "If the Injun isn't man enough to fight for his own food, he don't deserve any."

Joe squatted back down and tore his dried meat in half, handing one half to the Indian. At first the man turned away, but Joe pushed the meat at him, and the Indian reluctantly took it.

An army scout rode into the yard of the mine, tied his horse and went straight to the sergeant. "We need to talk," said the scout. "We may have some trouble."

The sergeant took him to the shack and closed the door behind them. "What is it?"

"A man rode into Aurora, asking where he could find Dutton. He went to the livery, and came back after a while, asking about a wagon and riders. That dang bartender had a real quiet conversation with him, and then this man went back to the livery. He didn't come back out."

"What else?"

"Well, the bartender wouldn't say nothin' about him, so I went over to the sheriff. It turns out that Nolan brought a boy in that got away from him. Got all the way down to the sheriff's office and told the sheriff he wasn't a prisoner. The sheriff didn't think nothin' of it when Nolan told him he was one of his prisoners. Now this fellow comes into town lookin' for the wagon. I got a sneakin' suspicion he's lookin' for the boy."

"Did you find out the man's name?"

"No, the bartender wouldn't say."

"The boy's name is Cartwright. Go back and see what you can find out about this man. If the bartender doesn't want to talk, encourage him."

"You gonna tell the captain?"

The sergeant looked down at the dirt floor of the shack, thinking. "No, not yet. Find what you can about this man in Aurora and come back. Then I'll talk to the captain."

**Chapter Fourteen**

Joe was bone tired when the soldier told them to put their tools down. His back was aching, his wrists were aching…his soul was aching. He stood in line waiting to climb down the ladder that had been moved back to the entrance of the mine. Looking around him, he could see no way to get out without the ladder. Escape from the mine was impossible.

When he got to the mouth of the mine, he had expected to see fading light, but it was already dark. Climbing down, he followed the men who had been there before him, watching them walk like ghosts back to the compound. That's when he finally understood. These people probably had no one to worry about them and no hope to ever leave this place. Joe knew in his heart that his family would come. But now he had a new fear that he had thought about all day. What would they be able to do when they got here? If the captain was as ruthless as he had been led to believe, would he be released? Pa, Adam and Hoss wouldn't be able to fight a small regiment. What if they denied he was there at all? He realized it might be quite a while before they were able to get him out. What if the army decided to make him disappear to avoid the discovery of slaves? Some of these men were prisoners, and there was nothing anyone could do for them. But Joe was sure that some of them were like him…grabbed off the road or their farms or ranches to disappear into the desert…maybe someone who had drifted through Aurora.

He stood in line at the privy, then went into the compound and sat by the next chain in line, waiting for it to be attached to his shackles. Dinner was mine rations, and while he was eating the soldier who had tended his wounds before came back.

"It looks better today," he said as he cleaned and rebandaged the wounds. "Even your hands look better."

Joe didn't say anything. There really wasn't anything to say. The soldier was following orders, and besides that, Joe knew the only reason his wounds were being treated was to keep an able body working. Looking around him, he finished his rations, and lay down on his stomach. In a few hours, it would start all over again.

Joe had just delivered an armload of rocks to the bucket, when he heard yelling coming from one of the other shafts. All the men were herded quickly into the room where they took their meals. Only one guard was left outside the entrance to the short shaft that led to the room. All of the slaves squatted down, except Joe, who stood looking across the cavern.

He felt a hand on his leg, pulling at him. Looking down, he saw the Indian to whom he had given half of his meal the day before. "Sit low or soldiers will beat," said the Indian.

Joe stooped next to him. "What's your name?" The man looked at him seeming unable to comprehend. "What are you called?" asked Joe, and then putting his hand on his chest, he said, "Joe."

The Indian did the same. "Mutheel munagh."

Joe started to stand again when he heard a blood-curdling scream, and then…nothing, but Mutheel munagh put a hand on his shoulder, keeping him down. In another minute, three soldiers came into the room and looked around.

One laughed and said, "Trained dogs. Since they're here, let 'em eat, then get 'em back to work."

When the rations were passed out, the same man who had taken Mutheel munagh's meat came back wanting more, but this time Joe stood up in front of him, giving the man a fiercely cold look. "If you want to take something, you'll take it from me." The man stood up against Joe, chest to chest, but when he saw that Joe wasn't going to back down, he looked over his shoulder at the guards, who were watching in amusement, then went back to his place and squatted.

"You, come 'ere," said the guard, nodding at Joe.

Joe looked around him, and then walked up to the guard. "You're new here, ain't you?"

Looking the soldier square in the eye, Joe said, "Yes."

The soldier backhanded him. "That's _yes sir_ to you."

Joe stood his ground, giving the soldier the same glare. "In this mine, a man stands up for himself. And we don't cotton to no Indian lovers." The guard feigned that he was turning away, but before Joe had moved, a rifle butt slammed into his stomach. When he doubled over, the rifle came up, smashing into his chin, sending him backwards to the floor. He lay still for a minute, trying to catch his breath when the guard kicked him. "Get up and get back to your place."

Joe crawled back, and then Mutheel munagh took his arm and helped him up to a squatting position. He looked sternly at Joe and shook his head. It was easy for Joe to understand what Mutheel munagh was telling him. _Do not cause trouble._

**Chapter Fifteen**

_Oh, Great Spirit  
Whose voice I hear in the winds,  
And whose breath gives life to all the world,  
hear me, I am small and weak,  
I need your strength and wisdom. __–__ Native American Prayer_

Adam awoke to the sound of glass tinkling, as if it were being brushed against more glass. He rolled over then remembered his lack of clothing and quickly grabbed his cover. He could see her moving around the cabin in the darkness, but couldn't tell what she was doing.

She stopped. "Get dressed. We will be leaving soon."

Adam did as he was told, thankful for the darkness, though it was difficult to figure out fronts and backs of clothing. She picked up a skin-wrapped package and the fruit from the table and opened the door. "Bring your gun and ammunition."

Once they were in the barn she lit a lantern then took the gun and a box of bullets from him, burying them deeply in one of the slender baskets. She took the package she brought from the shack, burying it in another basket. She spread one of the skins on each of the horses then placed the baskets on them with the straps over their back, allowing the baskets to hang on each side of the horse. She followed this with the rest of the skins then covered both horses with a blanket. In the dim light, he could see that she was wearing a tasseled skirt and a shirt similar to his. Her hair was braided down the back, and she wore a colorful headband. She walked into a dark corner of the barn and came out with something in her hand. "Give me your right hand," she said.

Adam held it out, and she tied a bracelet similar to her headband, but slimmer, on his wrist. She held her left hand out, handing him a matching bracelet. "Tie it on my wrist." She rolled out a skin, revealing a collection of knives, took one and placed it in a sheath on her belt. When she pulled up her skirt, showing her thighs, he looked away. She placed a knife in a sheath tied around her right thigh, glancing up at him when he cleared his throat. "Get used to it. You cannot show embarrassment at the sight of your wife. These are our marriage bands. You will not take it off, even to bathe." She handed him two knives and another sheath. "Tie the sheath to your leg inside your boot. Can you throw a knife?"

"Yes."

"Can you use a bow and arrow?"

"I'll learn."

"Can you get on your horse without stirrups?"

"Yep."

"Then we leave."

The two rode through the town silently in the dark, the only sound the muffled beat of the unshod hoofs in the dirt. Once they were out of town, she spoke. "If a brave speaks to me or touches me in any way, you will step between us. If you cower, he will kill you. If a brave sits next to me or offers me food, you must pull him away from me in anger. When my family leaves to bathe, you will not hesitate to remove your clothes by the river. They will ask questions about you; you are hairy and your hair has curls. You will tell them that your mother was Shoshoni from the north and your father was a trapper from the mountains. Your hair is black and your skin is dark; you will pass for a half-breed. Do not use big words. Speak simply. I will teach you to trap and kill the crawlers and the desert dogs for food. If the sun burns your skin, you will cover it with the milk of the healing plant. You must learn all this quickly. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You do not have to worry about the language. Because the Shoshoni and the Aha macave know that I have white blood, they will not question the language. They speak the tongue of the white man. But, if they give you a name, you must answer to it. The Aha macave may play jokes on you. This is the way of the Aha macave and means they like you. You will not be offended, but will laugh with them. If the men cry, you must cry. If the men shout in anger, you must shout with them. Do you understand?"

"This is a lot to remember. I'll do my best."

She jerked her head toward him, looking him fiercely in the eye. "Your life depends on this. If you cannot remember anything I have told you, tell me now so that I can repeat it."

"I'll remember."

The night clouds had broken, and he could see her now in the light of the moon. Her skirt was hiked all the way up to the tops of her thighs. She rode with the tassels of her skirt hanging between her legs so that she wasn't exposed. "You don't wear shoes?"

"No. My feet are used to the ground. It would be a good thing if you do not have tender feet and can go without your boots. But if you must wear them…" She shrugged. "They will not protect you from sharp rocks or spines. You must learn to move silently."

"What were the bottles you packed?"

"The white man has brought sickness to the Shoshoni and the Aha macave. I bring them medicine. This is why they allow me in their lands."

"I can understand why you're the only one that will come out here. I don't see a white man being able to do the things you do."

She laughed. "I do not fit in the white man's world. I do not fit in the Indian's world. I do not belong anywhere. But I can walk through either."

They rode in silence until a faint light shown just above the horizon. "We must find a place to make camp. When the morning sun has warmed the rocks, I will teach you to hunt the crawlers. Then we will eat and sleep."

**Chapter Sixteen**

Joe wasn't sure how much time had passed. He had been moved into different shafts, and his place in the compound changed each night. He had begun to mark the days in the beginning, but it became all too clear that he would never be able to keep an accurate count being moved around. He concluded that they were moved so they couldn't keep track of time…just another way to keep them sedate and hopeless.

There had been several times when the slaves had been mustered into the meal room, and each time, there were screams or cries for help and then nothing. Joe had never seen any bodies outside the mine, but then he figured they must be dumping the bodies in the desert to rot in the sun.

Mutheel munagh had become more than an acquaintance, but Joe wasn't sure if he could call him a friend. They managed a few words when the guards left the room, but the language differences left Joe wondering if Mutheel munagh understood what he had said. Still, he had tried to give the Indian some hope. "My family will come for me. And when they do, all the slaves will be freed."

Mutheel munagh just smiled and nodded, thinking that if the Aha macave had not been able to rescue them, no one else would. If the boy needed to believe that to live, he was not going to be the one to take his hope away.

The army scout sat across the desk from the sheriff. "Did you find anything about the boy?"

"I sent a wire up to Placerville asking about missing persons. There were several, but the one everyone seemed to be all up in arms about was a boy named Cartwright. Seems his Pa owns the biggest spread in the Nevada Territory, and they're lookin' out for him over to California."

"So the boy comes from money."

"It appears so. That young fella that's been askin' questions in the saloon; he was lookin' for a guide into the valley. He had a brand on his saddlebag…a tree. I did a little more checkin', and that brand belongs to the Ponderosa Ranch up near Virginia City. It's owned by Cartwrights."

"He went to see the squaw at the livery. Maybe you better bring Mike in for questioning."

"Already sent my deputy."

In another few minutes, the deputy ran back into the office. "Sheriff, she's gone, and there ain't no sign of the stranger, but his saddle and those black clothes he was wearing are in her cabin, and there's a horse in the stable, a chestnut, that don't belong there."

The scout stood. "Probably left last night. I guess I'd better be gettin' back and tell the sergeant he's got company comin'."

Joe stood at the back of the tunnel with a hammer and chisel. He had no idea what he was digging for…there was no gold or silver that he could see. He cut rock after rock out of the wall, then had to stop and haul them out to the bucket to be lowered down to the valley floor.

He hadn't seen the light of day for…how long…had it been one…two weeks? He'd lost count. Each time he left the mine, darkness had already fallen, and he was so exhausted by the time he was lying in the dirt in chains, he fell sound asleep almost immediately. He had no idea how early he started or how late he worked. All he knew was that it was dark either way.

He had joined the other men to eat his meager meal, a stale piece of bread and a piece of dried meat with water having a metallic taste, when one of the soldiers pulled him up by his shirt and pushed him into a dark shaft. The soldier led him into an opening at the back of the shaft that was brightly lit with a desk and chair at the center and stacks of paper, barrels of gun powder, and fuses piled at the back.

"This is the one, Captain," said the soldier, saluting the man behind the desk.

The officer rose, moving from the desk to walk around Joe, looking him up and down. "Keep him inside from now on. And if anyone shows up asking about him, dump him down the dead shaft. And send that scout back to Aurora. Tell him to find out where this…brother…and the squaw are."

"Aye, sir," said the soldier, saluting before shoving Joe back into the dark shaft. "You know what the dead shaft is, boy?" asked the soldier, taunting. "Let's just say that if you ain't dead before you drop, you will be by the time you hit bottom…or soon thereafter. Then again, maybe all those bodies down there'll soften the landing." The soldier laughed loudly, his cackle echoing off the walls of the tunnel. They went back to the same shaft where Joe left his tools lying on the floor. "Get back to work," the soldier growled, shoving Joe into the wall.

Joe gritted his teeth and clenched his fingers around the hammer and chisel. _It__'__s gotta be Adam. Just hold on for a little while longer._

**Chapter Seventeen**

Mike moved efficiently around the area she had chosen as a camp. She pulled the blankets off the horses, and unpacked the baskets and skins before spreading some of the skins over the bushes and some on the ground. The baskets and blankets she put at the back of the makeshift tent. Adam stood out of her way, unwilling to interrupt her quick and methodical movements.

"Wouldn't it be better if the shelter was against the rocks?" asked Adam.

She looked and pointed up. "Only if you want your head smashed by one of those rocks. A shelter is built away from rocks. It is not built in a low place because of rushing rain water. It is not built where there are desert dog droppings because they will come in your shelter. It is not built near the water."

"Wait. Why wouldn't you build a shelter near water?"

"Do you want to be trampled in the night by the desert animals that come to drink?" Adam smiled slightly, nodding. "Come with me," she said. She began cutting brush here and there, never taking more than a few stems from any one plant. She handed them to Adam. "We will use these to cover the shelter." She motioned for him to continue gathering brush.

She had chosen a place away from the base of a sheer rock wall leading up into the mountains they had been skirting. When the shelter was blended into the desert landscape, she said, "Wait here," removing her clothes and holding her knife between her teeth, then climbing up what Adam had thought was unclimbable.

He watched her ascend, clinging to the rock, the color of the rock and her skin making it seem as if she melted into it. He watched her quickly choose her handholds and footholds, zigzagging her way up. When she reached the top, she crawled over the edge and disappeared.

He sat down on a rock, waiting…and sweating. The sun was barely up and it was already hot. He jumped when she surprised him, appearing before him naked, glistening with sweat. "Where did you go?"

"To see if we are being followed. I saw no one. We will sleep safely here. It would be better for you if you remove your shirt and pants and wear only your dopada'-nee'…your breechcloth. Your pants are biga-gusa. Your shirt is kwasun."

"I won't be as comfortable as you think."

"When we arrive at the village of the Shoshoni, you will see the men wearing only their dopada'-nee'. The women will wear only their biga-gwasu'N," holding her hand in front of her to indicate a skirt. This is the way we live in the hot season." She walked around behind him, sneering at him. "You white men think you have such modesty. You make the desire worse by covering up. Indian braves do not want after women who are not theirs to want."

He glanced up toward the sky. "I'm not an Indian brave."

"No, you are not," she said scornfully. "Come. We will hunt and eat. Then we will sleep." Adam followed her as she easily moved across the desert floor, over rocks and through brush, as if she were floating just above the ground, making no sound. She stopped and sat on a rock. "We will never find food. You sound like a herd of buffalo. Stay here."

Adam grimaced. He knew he was noisy. He heard himself move, crunching, stumbling, the brush scratching against his pants.

He watched her climbing over the rocks, poking in crevices with a stick. She stopped at a crevice, working the stick in and out, eventually pulling out a rattlesnake. It had not yet come out to warm itself in the morning sun and moved slowly. She slung it to the ground and quickly threw her knife, pinning the snake to the ground just below the head. Then she jumped down and cut the head off with her other knife. Bringing the snake near the shelter, she laid the body and head out on a rock then began to gather twigs from the brush and from a nearby ocotillo cactus. Soon she had a small fire burning. She sat, taking the snake and pushing the stick she had used to pull it out of the crevice into the meat. Then she pulled the skin down and away. The snake was a good-sized snake, measuring the width of three fingers across its back. Once the skin was removed, she wrapped the snake around the stick pushing the other end of the stick into the meat, then laid it over the fire propped up between two rocks. Cutting the rattle off the end, she then split the skin, laying a six finger wide band out flat on a wide rock next to the head to dry. The rattle was strung on a piece of twine that she wore around her neck. Nothing of the snake was wasted. She turned the stick holding the meat over on the fire then walked to a cactus, cutting and spearing two fruits on each knife. She set each fruit on one of the rocks by the fire.

Once the fine spines at the base of the fruit were burned off, she skinned them and cut them in halves, handing two halves to Adam. Pulling the rattlesnake meat off the fire, she cut it in half and handed half to him. "Eat." Mike watched him stare at his meal for a moment. When he looked up at her, she held up a piece of the cactus fruit and bit into it. "It is good. It will quiet your thirst," she said, then motioned for him to do the same. He took a small bite, chewing slowly, then raised his eyebrows and nodded. Next, she nodded at the rattlesnake as she picked her half up, cutting it into small pieces then putting one in her mouth and chewing.

He did the same, warily chewing the meat, slowly smiling. "Tastes like chicken." He picked the small bones out of his mouth and enjoyed the rest of his meal.

"How far do you think we've come today?" asked Adam.

"We will be with the Shoshoni after two more sleeps. When we arrive, they will be uneasy. They are fighting to stay on their land. If they stop us, you will not fight. They must be sure we are not an enemy before they will take us to their hidden village. We will speak the language of the Shoshoni first, and then, when they know who I am, they will speak your tongue so that you may understand. We will stay in my grandmother's lodge. We will talk to the chief and his braves about the lead mines and deliver medicine in return."

Adam sat listening, chewing the cactus fruit. He held it in his mouth, enjoying the cool wetness. "Why are you doing this? You could've turned me down. You would have been safe in your cabin back in Aurora instead of…" he waved his hand around him, "in this."

"I am more comfortable in this…" she said, copying his gesture, "than I am in Aurora." The white men there look at me with hunger in their eyes. It is not a good feeling." She paused, looking at her feet. "I have agreed to take you…so that I can buy more medicine."

To Adam, she seemed almost remorseful. He thought she could well be the only one that could help her people survive. "You speak English well. If you used contractions, I wouldn't know you were part Indian. Do you know what that means?"

"My great-grandmother was a white woman who taught in your schools. I understand the words. I use them, but only around the whites. The Indians would not think well of me if I spoke like the white man." She watched him eat, then asked. "Is your brother all there is of your family?"

"No, my father was away on business…in St. Louis. My brother, Hoss, stayed to watch our ranch and meet my father when he arrives home. We decided I should start searching before the trail disappeared. What about your family?"

"My father was killed fighting the soldiers. My mother is with the Aha macave that refused to go to the reservation. My grandfather…" She picked up a handful of sandy soil, wiping her knife in it until the blade shined, then covered the small fire with dirt and moved the rocks on top. By the time she was finished, all signs of the fire had disappeared.

"Go to the shelter. I will follow you." As Adam moved to the shelter, she cut a piece of brush dragging it over the ground to cover their footprints as she followed him in. Earlier, she had moved the horses into a small canyon in sight of the shelter, fed them mesquite beans mixed with a small amount of oats, watered them from one of the pokes and poured water in the shallow hole of a shaded rock. The higher walls were on the north and south of the canyon, giving the horses shade most of the day.

She entered the shelter next to Adam, and lay down on the skins, rolling the blanket and using it as a pillow. Adam did the same and lay down next to her, already miserable from the heat. He moved around uncomfortably, until she sat up. "If you would take off your biga-gusa and kwasun, you would be more comfortable, and I will be able to sleep," she said sternly. "Wear only your dopada'-nee'."

Adam sat, pursing his lips, thinking that if Joe and Hoss ever found out about this, he would never hear the end of it. He took his clothes off, put his breechcloth back on and lay down. Soon, he was asleep.

**Chapter Eighteen**

_Let me walk in beauty and make my eyes ever behold  
the red and purple sunset.  
Make my hands respect the things you have  
made and my ears sharp to hear your voice.  
Make me wise so that I may understand the things  
you have taught my people.  
Let me learn the lessons you have  
hidden in every leaf and rock. – Native American Prayer_

Mike awoke when the sun was midway between straight up and setting. She lay still, reserving the strength she gained from sleep and trying to stay as cool as possible in the heat of the afternoon. She was not cool by any means, but it was too hot in the day to leave, and there was nothing to do until evening when they would be traveling. She thought that, at least, this man trusted her. If he didn't, he wouldn't be sleeping so soundly.

An hour before sunset, Adam woke up, lying with his eyes closed and listening. By the sound of her breaths, he knew she was not asleep, the cadence of her breathing not quite as long. Still, she was relaxed and motionless, not wasting any precious energy in the heat. She had been right; even in the one hundred and twenty degree heat he had been able to sleep well in only the breechcloth. He almost felt as comfortable here as at home, except for the heat, having slept most of his life with no night clothes of any kind. He rolled onto his back.

"You must lie still until it is time to leave," she said quietly.

"How long?"

"Soon."

Just as the sun was setting over the mountains, giving them enough light to break camp, they emerged from the shelter. Mike fed the horses more mesquite beans and oats and watered them. She brought them to the shelter and began to dismantle it, handing skins to Adam, who began loading the horses. While he finished loading, she collected the dried snakeskin and the head, peeling the skin off the skull and adding it to the necklace she had made with the rattle. She rolled the snakeskin and placed it in one of the baskets.

"What will you use that for?"

"It will be a gift for Fulani moco'o, the Aha macave medicine man. The necklace will be a gift to newe pohakanten of the Shoshoni." She looked at the fully loaded horses. "You learn quickly."

She began to stick the pieces of brush that had covered their shelter back into the bushes, motioning for Adam to do as she did. After the area was completely clear, she took the last piece and brushed the area where the shelter had been.

Adam looked back when they were on their way, amazed that there was no trace of their camp.

Mike pulled the fruit she had taken from the table in her cabin out of a basket along with some jerky wrapped in a skin and again in oil cloth. She passed an apple to Adam then offered him the jerky. She smiled when she noticed his feet…they were bare.

They stopped only once this night, to cut fruit from a prickly-pear cactus to quench their thirst. She showed him where to cut it from the cactus and how to peel the skin without touching the fine hair-like spines at the base of the fruit. "This morning, you will find our meal and prepare it," she said.

Adam watched the dark shadows of the steep mountains pass by as they travelled. He listened to the sound of the horse hooves in the rocky, dry soil and the occasional sound of a distant vulture. Other than those sounds, the night desert was silent.

Once again, when the morning light appeared over the horizon, they stopped to make camp. Mike asked Adam to choose the site and when his decision was made, she asked him to tell her why he chose it. Adam was pleased…she made no remark either good or bad and didn't move the location, meaning to him that the site he picked was a good one.

After they had unloaded the horses, he made the shelter as she watched. He fed and watered the horses as he had seen her do the night before. She guided him through the rocks pointing to likely spots where he might find a snake, and when he did, he pulled it out, throwing his knife, severing the head with the throw. She helped him skin it, and took the rattle for her necklace. He did as she had done to prepare and cook the meat and dry the skin and head. When they finished eating and covered the fire, he removed his clothes without hesitation and donned his breechcloth. He covered their footprints and crawled into the shelter. Both of them fell asleep almost immediately.

When they awoke, the evening routine was done in efficient and methodical silence by both of them. Shortly after they were on their way again, they stopped, Mike having heard more than the sound of the horses or the night birds. She jumped down from her horse, leading him through the darkness into the rocks. Adam followed. He knew not to speak, but listened, straining to hear what had alerted her. Before he heard anything, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. That was the last thing he remembered.

**Chapter _Nineteen_**

When Adam awoke, the first thing he noticed was pain. He moved his hand to the back of his head and felt a distinct knot. Looking around him, he realized he was in what looked like a hut made from skins. Even the floor was covered in skins and Indian rugs. The hut was not the same as any teepees he had seen. It was bigger with a slant beginning about shoulder height leading to a hole in the roof under which the remnants of a fire sat on the only space in the floor that wasn't covered. He wasn't tied or bound in any way, so he slowly got to his feet and walked to the only opening other than the hole in the roof.

He stopped just inside and listened to the voices he heard. He was unable to understand what was being said, but he knew that one of those voices belonged to Mike. Assuming she had identified herself, and they weren't captives, he stepped out of the hut. The other two voices belonged to an old woman wearing only a skirt and an old man wearing a breechcloth who Adam guessed was their medicine man based on the way he was adorned. Besides other colorful jewelry, he wore the necklace containing the two rattles and two snake heads Mike had made.

They squatted in a close circle near the door of the hut. He noticed that Mike and the old woman were both positioned so that the tassels of their skirts hung between their legs. He looked around him, and everywhere the women were dressed and sat the same, and all the men wore nothing but breechcloths as Mike had said.

"Hutsi', daiboo'," said Mike, motioning to Adam, "nappai Shoshoni. SodeN tsa'uhtu-monih demenge-nattahsun, ne demazai-da'oda-sokaN dai'zhi."

The woman took Mike's hand then looked at Adam's. "Kuhma?"

"Haa'," answered Mike, nodding. They all looked over at him.

"SodeN daiqwa-Shoshoni?" asked the old woman.

"Kai," said Mike, shaking her head.

The old woman stood up and was followed by Mike and the medicine man. "Then we will speak the white man's tongue. You have the medicine?" Mike nodded and walked past Adam into the hut, taking five of the bottles out of a basket, and returning to the old woman. The medicine man took the bottles and left toward another hut.

"We will meet with the Shoshoni men when they return from the hunt. The mines are in the lands of the Aha macave. You will be guided to the edge of their lands, but we will go no further. You will sleep in my lodge. Then you will go when the sun rises again."

Mike bowed her head. "Ose, hutsi'." The old woman laid her hand on Mike's head, looked up to the sky and said what Adam imagined was a prayer, then left. Mike stood next to Adam, and when the old woman was out of sight, she pulled Adam into the lodge.

"Who is she?" asked Adam.

"She is hutsi', my grandmother. Her name is Kimama."

"What did she say?"

"I told her the money I will make for helping you save your half-brother pays for the medicine. When the men return, we will talk. They will take us toward the mines up to the land of the Aha macave. I do not think we will go far from there before the Aha macave find us."

"So, we wait," said Adam, tightening his lips and breathing heavily through his nose. He knew Joe could last for a time; he was healthy and strong. But if what Mike said was true about the conditions of the mine, the longer he was there, the more likely he would run into trouble, especially with his temper. "I never told you he was my half-brother."

"If he is it is just as well. They would not believe we would be getting money for medicine if he was Shoshoni." Mike emptied one of the baskets, gathering some small skins and oil cloth. "Come. We must prepare for our journey to the Aha macave. We will gather food. After the evening meal we will go to the water and bathe with my family. Then we will sleep here in the lodge of my grandmother. The men will want to leave before dawn."

Adam followed her to the edge of a large creek. On the sunny banks across the creek stood rack upon rack of salmon meat drying in the sun. They waded to the other side, then Mike laid her basket down and took a spear from the side of one of the racks, handing it to Adam. She found another and beckoned for him to follow her back into the creek. At the bottom of a small fall, she pulled him behind her and stood patiently until one of the swimming salmon jumped out of the water heading up the fall. She speared it in the air, then motioned for Adam to do the same. He was successful with his first fish. They took the fish back to the bank and went back to the fall, each taking one more fish.

When the fish were on the bank, she reached up, touching his face. "White men are hairy. Wait here." He watched her from a distance as she dug her knife deep into the heart of a cactus, pulling out a thick, translucent substance. When she came back, she dropped her skirt to the ground and walked into the water, her knife in one hand and the goo in the other. "Come," she said motioning for him to follow her.

Adam removed his breechcloth and walked into the water, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow. "What is that?"

"It will make the blade move easy over your face."

He chuckled nervously. "Uh…I…would…prefer to do that myself."

"You have no mirror."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, accepting that she was right that he would never be able to shave without one. "May I see the knife?" She gave it to him, and he tested the blade, pulling his finger back quickly after making a small slice without any effort. He handed it back.

"Get down on your knees in the water." He slowly lowered himself, so tense she thought he might snap in two. She laughed at him as she put the knife in her mouth, reached around his head and began to spread the goo over the shadow of his beard. Once she was done, she wrapped an arm around his head, holding him so tightly against her that he struggled. "Do not move unless you want me to cut your throat," she said sternly. When he relaxed, she put the edge of the blade against his face and began to shave him. He had slowly relaxed until she got to his neck then he tensed again. "If I wanted you dead, you would be dead."

"I'm not worried that you'll kill me intentionally. I'm worried that you'll kill me accidently." He forced himself to relax, allowing her to continue. As she began shaving his neck, she said angrily, "Your words are too big."

_That was smart. She's angry at me, and she's shaving my neck._

When she was done, she let him go and turned away to clean the knife in the water while he rinsed his face. As he was washing away the remnants of the goo, he drew his fingers over his face and grunted in surprise. He couldn't remember a time when his face had been this smooth after he had shaved with a razor.

"Where did you learn to shave a man?"

"Here. You are the first," she answered offhandedly. Adam's bottom jaw dropped, but he quickly recovered it, blowing and puffing his cheeks out. "Do you know how to prepare a fish…to remove the bones?"

Filleting a fish was something that he had done a hundred or more times, and he happily replied, "yes," glad that there was something out here to do that he already knew.

Mike took four large pieces of already dried salmon meat off of one of the racks, rolled them in oil cloths and wrapped them tightly in a skin. Then she took their first fish to a flat rock and began to prepare it for the rack. Adam did the same, and soon, all four fish were filleted and hanging over the rack in place of the fish she had taken.

They dressed and went back to the lodge where Mike repacked the basket with the dried salmon. Then they waited and rested until they were called for the evening meal.

The Shoshoni men returned with a big horn sheep that they skinned, cut and began cooking over several fires. The big horn would be enough to feed the entire tribe, including the two visitors. The men sat cross-legged in a circle around the fire with the medicine man and Adam. Mike and her grandmother were the only two women seated in the circle. All the other women were either tending to the men or were sitting with a group away from them.

The medicine man addressed the men. "Mike nattahsun-keya. SodeN yaa monih nasukkuse nattahsun demazai'-Adam yaa dawi' gahti kaitsaan-hooda."

One of the men in the circle spoke, "Adam daiboo'?"

"Adam nappai daiboo' nappai Shoshoni gahti kwinahai. Adam kuhma. Mike kwehe."

Adam leaned over to Mike. "What are they saying?"

"Pohakanten," she said, pointing to the medicine man, "tells them we bring medicine and can get money for more medicine if they help find the mines. He tells them you are half-breed and that we are husband and wife."

The man in the circle spoke again. "Kimama meheN-nehwe?"

"Haa'," answered Mike's grandmother.

"They asked if Grandmother claims us as family. She said 'yes'," whispered Mike.

"SodeN daiqwa-Shoshoni?" asked the man.

"Kai," said Kimama.

The men looked around the circle at one another discussing Adam among themselves. The man who had been speaking asked, "Your brother is Shoshoni?"

"No, my brother is a white man. He is my half-brother." There was more discussion within the circle.

"We take you to land of Aha macave near mines. No more." He clapped his hands and the women brought flat wood covered with chunks of meat, followed by flat bread and what Adam recognized as the fruit from the prickly-pear cactus. Mike and her grandmother left the circle. Adam stayed and ate with the men. He carefully watched what the men did before Mike brought food to him. He laid a smaller piece of wood on the ground in front of him, and stabbed a piece of meat with his knife while Mike placed a piece of the flat bread and chunks of the cactus fruit on the wood. Then she backed away, sitting with the women and eating after all the men had been served. Some of the men left the circle, each calling to a woman to sit with him. When Adam looked around for Mike, he found her sitting with her grandmother, eating a piece of meat with her hands, gnawing it, letting the grease drip down her chin. He didn't allow his disgust to show on his face, thinking better of it when he observed the other women eating the same way, wiping their chins with the back of the arms.

Mike caught his eye and nodded him over. He got up, walking over to her. She sneered and motioned away. Adam stood for a moment, watching as another man called a woman to him. "Mike," he said loudly, walking to a log near the entrance to her grandmother's lodge.

The man that had been talking in the circle leaned over to the other men still sitting with him. "He does not know the way of the Shoshoni."

Another man answered. "He is the family of Kimama. He stays this night. He will not be ours to feed when the sun rises, and the Aha macave woman will go back to her people."

**Chapter Twenty**

"Ayasha, it is too dangerous for you to come again. If you are with the Shoshoni, you will be taken to the reservation. If you are found without the Shoshoni, the Army men will not be kind to you."

"Hutsi', if I do not bring the medicine, our people will die."

"I will make the Shoshoni men understand that you do this to keep our people alive to fight. They will come to know."

Adam and the Shoshoni men who were taking them toward the mines waited while Mike and her grandmother said their goodbyes. Mike swung her leg up and over one of the two horses the Shoshoni had given them to replace the two they had arrived on, and they left the village.

"Ayasha?" said Adam.

"My Shoshoni name."

"What does it mean?"

"Little One. Ssh. We must be quiet."

They rode with four Shoshoni men through steep-sided canyons and up and over the mountains of dust and rock, never entering the wide valleys. When they arrived atop a high precipice, the men slid off their horses and motioned for Adam and Mike to join them lying on the edge. From where they were looking, the entire east end of the valley between two mountain ranges was visible. Mines could be seen as tiny points of dust where men were constantly moving in and out of them. The mines that were close together were gold or silver mines. Other mines were isolated, hugging looming rock walls; one with the opening positioned high up on the face of the wall.

"The white man digs the lead mines against the rock and high up so they cannot be attacked from sides or back…only front," said one of the Shoshoni men, pointing. He crawled back away from the edge and stood. "We go no further. There lies the land of the Aha macave."

The Shoshoni man took Mike by the arms. "Kimama has told us why you come to our lands again and again." He looked up to the sky and said, "May Hania watch over you…and Tsiishchili," he added, looking back at Adam. "Goodbye my sister."

Mike and Adam watched as the Shoshoni men disappeared into the canyon below the precipice. "What did he say to you?" asked Adam.

"He asked that the Great Spirit warrior watch over us."

"Us?" asked Adam with raised eyebrows.

"He gave you a Shoshoni name…Tsiishchili. You are one of the tribe."

"What does it mean?"

She looked to the side trying to hide a grin. "It means 'curly haired'". He frowned. "Do not look displeased. It could have been Pehe-daaN."

"And what does that mean?"

"Hairy one." He looked down at his bare chest, bouncing his head from side to side with his eyebrows raised.

"Come. We have far to travel." Even though the mines could be seen from the precipice, they were still more than two days ride away. "We will find a place to make camp and travel again in darkness."

"The Shoshoni didn't feel the need to do that. Why are we?"

"We have a better chance of avoiding the Aha macave if we travel at night. And the sun will not burn your skin."

"I've already been traveling in the sun, and sunburn is not going to interfere with getting Joe out of there. What are the chances we'll avoid the Aha macave?"

"Small," she said as she took the braid out of her hair, now wearing it loosely falling over her shoulders.

"Then we'll keep moving." Mike pinched her mouth into an aggravated pucker, but before she could voice her dissent, Adam stopped her. "Not a word," he growled, flaring his nostrils and furrowing his brows. She pulled her pucker in at his growl and did as she was told while Adam chuckled to himself. She reminded him of Little Joe at eight or nine years old when he was angry.

As they travelled, they stopped periodically to water their horses and themselves. In this part of the desert, plant life was sparse. They had not found a prickly pear cactus or any other edible plant for hours.

Adam had excused himself and walked behind some rocks. When he returned, an Indian, he assumed Aha macave, was dragging a struggling Mike away, holding his hand over her mouth. Adam pulled his knife from the sheath he wore at his waist, intent on freeing Mike, but several more men jumped down from the rocks above him, surrounding them. Adam looked around him and back at Mike, who was staring intently at him.

"You dare touch my woman!" he shouted, then lunged forward with his knife. The other Aha macave closed in on him, holding him by the arms and neck as he struggled to free himself.

"Who are you?" said the man holding Mike.

"I am Chacha hoda, daughter of Chacha wakavar. I have brought medicine for Fulani moco'o."

"Fulani moco'o lives with the Great Spirit. "Quaskette howa has taken his place. Who is he?" the man asked, pushing his chin out toward Adam.

"He is my husband."

"He is a white man," said the man in disgust.

"He is also Shoshoni."

The Aha macave man studied both of them then nodded to the other men, pushing Mike hard toward Adam, who caught her in his arms and held her. He pulled her behind him as he approached the Aha macave man.

"If you touch her again, I will kill you," threatened Adam through clenched teeth, standing chest to chest with the Aha macave.

The Aha macave man looked impassively at Adam then looked over his shoulder at the other men. They all began to laugh. Adam flared his nostrils, and the man patted both of his shoulders. "Come brother. We will take you to our camp. You will eat and drink with us."

Adam looked down at Mike who was smiling up at him proudly. They followed the Aha macave through the canyon to their camp, dodging an Army patrol on the way.

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Hoss Cartwright stood, churning, waiting for the stagecoach that would bring his father home early from St. Louis. His father's response to Hoss' telegram was a short 'I'm on my way. Don't let the trail get cold'. After that answer, Adam and Hoss knew one of them had to start tracking, and it was as plain to Hoss as the nose on his face which one should go and which one should wait. Adam was smaller and could move faster and right now speed was necessary. The only traces left of Joe was just about everything he carried with him. Whoever took him, took him and nothing else. It definitely wasn't a robbery, and they definitely didn't want anyone to identify him. It had taken weeks for his father to return and in all that time a demand for ransom never materialized.

Now, after receiving Adam's telegram from Aurora, Hoss felt that maybe it would have been better if there had been a ransom note. If what Adam suspected was true, Joe could be in serious trouble, if not already dead, and there would be no one on the way Adam could trust to help him.

Hoss heard the unmistakable sound of the team of horses pulling the stagecoach. He craned his neck to see it coming around the corner, watching it until it stopped in front of him. Ben Cartwright barely waited for it to stop before he bolted from the coach.

"Any news?"

"Yeah, this telegram came from Adam about a week ago, Pa. It don't sound good," he said, handing the telegram to his father.

Ben read. "It doesn't look like Adam's going to get much help either except for this guide, Mike Dutton. He says the Army post down there is probably in on it."

"Death Valley," said Hoss, shaking his head. "There's an Indian war goin' on down there, and Adam's walkin' right in the middle of it."

"He doesn't seem to have much choice, Hoss. Let's go. I want to get started as soon as we can."

"Adam said we should bring some of the men unless we wanted to end up on one of those wagons."

Ben and Hoss rode quickly home to the Ponderosa where they handpicked two men to ride with them, packed their gear on fresh horses, barely saying hello and goodbye to Hop Sing. Hop Sing understood. He was just as anxious for them to bring Joe and Adam home as they were. When Hoss told him his father would be on the stagecoach, Hop Sing packed enough food to carry them through the ride to Aurora.

"Thank you, Hop Sing," said Ben.

Hop Sing could see the worry on his face. "Hop Sing be okay here. You bring Missa Joe and Missa Adam home."

When Adam and Mike arrived at the Aha macave camp, most of the inhabitants were men. There were very few women and no children.

"Ask them where my mother is…Chacha wakavar," said Mike, leaning into Adam.

"Where is Chacha wakavar?"

"She was sick and was taken to the reservation."

When Mike heard this, she stepped in front of Adam, but he pulled her back, looking sternly at her. "Who took her there?" he asked.

"She was found and taken by the soldiers."

Mike slumped, stepping away, and Adam followed her, standing behind her. "She would rather die than go to the reservation," she said.

He turned back to the Aha macave. "Can we get her back?"

"No, we cannot. The soldiers are too many to fight at the reservation." He motioned toward a small hut. "Come. Rest. We will talk at the night meal."

Mike went to the pallet of skins at the back of the hut, dropping, bringing her knees up to her chest and covering her head. Adam sat near the opening of the hut, observing the Aha macave as they went about their daily chores. He heard Mike moving around behind him, going through the baskets. Soon, she sat next to him. He noticed she sat with one leg underneath her while the other was bent with her knee up, the tassels of her skirt covering her and recognized that she was sitting like the few Aha macave women in the camp. She had changed her whole demeanor in the presence of the Aha macave.

She sat down close to him with her head bowed, leaning into his side, grasping something in her hand and fidgeting. "My great-grandmother taught me to speak your language, but…" She held out her hand closed in a fist, and Adam held out his open hand. Her hand hovered over his for a moment, as if she was unsure if she wanted to give him whatever was there. "This came for me before you came to Aurora. I was told it is from California." She dropped a rolled envelope into Adam's hand, never looking at him, then drew her hand back and played with the tassels on her skirt. "My grandfather was taken by the soldiers. My grandmother said he was in the prison of the white man, and that we would not see him again. That was many years ago."

"Your great-grandmother never taught you to read, did she?" asked Adam gently. She looked away shamefully, shaking her head. "Do you know why your grandfather was taken?"

"Because he took supplies and medicine to the Shoshoni during the big war."

She unrolled the envelope in his hand, taking the letter out and placing it back in his hand. She glanced up at him quickly, pushing the edge of the letter with her fingertips, silently imploring him to read it.

Adam unrolled and unfolded the letter and read it to himself, sucking in a long, deep breath when he was done and looking out the opening. He looked back at her when he felt her eyes on him, pleading. He cleared his throat and read. "Miss Dutton, it is with my sincere apologies that I must inform you of the death of Michael Lewis Dutton on the evening of July 4, 1860 while incarcerated at San Quentin State Prison. Mr. Dutton died of consumption."

Her eyes clouded, and she backed away from him, crawling back to the pallet of skins, curling into a tight ball. He'd never seen her cry. After watching her unemotional, methodical ways, he never imagined he would ever see her cry.

He backed away from the door and lay next to her on the skins. She turned her back to him, but allowed him to hold her as she sobbed.

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Adam went back to the opening of the hut, leaving Mike lying on the pallet after crying herself to sleep. When he saw that several men had brought in a mule deer, he stepped outside, hoping they would ask him to help. He had slaughtered enough cattle and deer in his life to know his way around a mule deer. When he approached the men with his knife out, none took it as an act of aggression, but rather that he was coming to help like every other man in the small band. He knelt next to the man that had spoken to him before and began pulling and cutting the skin from the underlying meat.

"What are you called?" asked the man.

"Adam."

"Do you have a Shoshoni name?"

"Tsiishchili."

The men surrounding the mule deer looked at him, his chest, his arms and legs then laughed heartily. "Then you shall be called Homar huwhen," said the man, laughing.

"What are you called?"

"I am Empote quatacheech." Adam slowly pronounced the name, and Empote quatacheech gave him a satisfied grunt and nod.

When the men had finished removing the skin and gutting the mule deer, they passed the skin and waste back to the women who were waiting to clean and hang the skin to dry. The waste was taken away from the camp and sparsely spread over the ground. By morning, there would be no trace of it.

Once the meat was cut and cooking over the fires, the men went to wash the blood of the mule deer off their bodies as the women brought corn and squash. Each Aha macave man patted Adam on the back, inviting him to go with them, appreciating his skill with the knife. The men washed silently, ever vigil of their surroundings.

When they returned, Adam was happy to see Mike tending the fires with the other women. He followed the men, sitting in a circle, discussing the kill of the mule deer and the location of the Army patrols. When the food was ready, the women laid large wooden trays of food in front of the men in the circle then positioned themselves behind the men. He noticed that a woman who was the wife of one of the men sat close to him, just behind and to the right. The wives were treated with greater respect than the single women who brought their food with them and sat farther back from the circle. The wives were given food from the trays by their husbands. Anything the husband didn't finish was passed back to the wife who could then pass back to the other women. The wives were allowed to speak when spoken to.

Empote quatacheech spoke to the small band of Aha macave, raising his hands to the sky, thanking Mutavilya, their creator, who gave them their names and their commandments and his son, Mastamho, who gave them the river and taught them how to plant and hunt. When the prayer was done and everyone started eating, he spoke again. "Adam, you use the knife well. You are Homar huwhen." Everyone, including the women repeated his name, then laughed.

Adam turned to Mike. "Why are they laughing?"

"Your name means 'hairy man with short hair,'" she answered, laughing.

"What does your name mean?" She frowned and looked away, muttering. "What? I didn't hear you."

"Beautiful ear of corn."

Adam laughed loudly, but didn't cause anyone to take notice. His laughter blended in with theirs. He found it refreshing, especially after hearing how vicious the Aha macave could be, that they were so friendly. He knew he wouldn't have been so fortunate if he had not been traveling with Mike. It was clear…to friends they were a very gracious people.

When the meal was over, the women on the outside of the circle behind the wives took the trays and gathered near the cooking fire.

"Chacha hoda, do you bring medicine?"

She nodded and passed a skin-wrapped bundle forward. It made its way around the circle to Empote quatacheech. Another package was passed to Quaskette howa. When Empote quatacheech opened the package he held up the bottles for all to see. A mumble arose through the small band with everyone nodding approval, and again, when the medicine man unrolled the two snake skins.

"Homar huwhen and Chacha hoda, you have brought much needed medicine and have pleased the Great Spirit," he said, nodding toward Quaskette howa. "Speak your gift."

"My half brother has been taken as a slave in the lead mines. We ask for your help in freeing him."

"Homar huwhen, many of our brothers have been taken to work in the mines. They are never seen again. We have been to the camps of the white men who guard the mines. The white slaves sleep in chains outside. The Aha macave slaves sleep inside the mine so that we cannot free them."

"My brother is not Shoshoni. He is white." A murmur passed around the circle. "Our father is a white man. We have different mothers."

Empote quatacheech sat with his eyes closed while the medicine man sitting beside him whispered to him. "Chacha hoda has the blood of the white man. She is mutaquesa manyieh, a good spirit."

Empote quatacheech opened his eyes. "We will help you free your brother. But be warned. It will not go easy. We may all meet the Great Spirit."

"Before we go, I would speak with the Captain of the soldiers."

"No. It is the soldiers who take my brothers to the mines. It is the soldiers that guard the wagons that come from the north full of white slaves. If you speak to this Captain, you will not return. You will be a slave in the mines." Adam nodded. "We will go to watch when the sun is high. Then we will go after the next sunset to find your brother and free him. Tonight we drink the water of the seer."

Mike tugged on Adam's arm, and when he looked, her eyes were full of fear. She whispered, "You cannot drink the water of the seer. It will…change you."

"What do you mean?"

She looked sadly at him, knowing that he would drink with the men. "You will become…Aha macave…not Adam Cartwright. It will make you act like an Aha macave man the night before he goes to fight…so that his spirit lives on."

She didn't have a chance to explain further. The single women in the group took her, struggling to the hut, forcing her inside. "You will wait here," said one of the women.

She had no choice. Adam would soon come into the hut, and she had to be prepared. She began to pull the leather straps from the baskets, pulling long pieces of string through the ends.

The men sat around the fire while Quaskette howa prepared the drink that would be shared by all the men. He cut a dried cactus into small pieces, dropping them into a half gourd filled with water that he slowly warmed over the fire. He said a prayer then passed the gourd around with each man taking a drink. When Adam drank the effect was slow, but soon the men in the circle began to move from side to side in a wave; their heads would move first then their bodies would move while their heads moved back. The gourd came around again, and he took another drink. As time went by, the sparks from the fire became small figures dancing around the fire as if they were alive. The medicine man danced with them. The drink had other effects, too, and soon, the men were leaving the circle, going into their huts with their wives amid the hoots and howls of those men left at the fire, watching the strange fire dance taking place in the middle.

When the gourd came back around, Adam pushed it away, swaying as if he was going to fall…but wait…he was sitting on the ground already. Finally, he was pulled to his feet by someone saying something about his Shoshoni blood was too thin to take anymore. The bodiless arms guided him to his hut and shoved him through the opening. He fell to his knees, swaying. Then he saw her, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, her tanned body flowing to the floor like a river, her hair growing longer and longer. He reached for her and pulled her to him, running his fingers through her long hair.

Mike pushed him backwards, straddling him, and he pulled her face down to his, taking her mouth with his. She whispered words to him that he could not comprehend; the melodic sound of her voice, soothing. She moved his arms over his head then climbed down his body to his feet, gently touching him, whispering promises.

She suddenly backed away. He tried to sit up, but he couldn't bring his legs underneath him. He reached for her with his hands, but he couldn't separate them. As much as he tried to get to her, she was always just out of reach until he fell from his knees onto his side, mumbling. His mumbles slowly faded, and he lay motionless. Mike stayed in the far corner of the hut the rest of the night.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

When Adam awoke, he opened his eyes, but the hut was spinning, so he closed them again. He brought his hands up to his head and realized he was tied. When he tried to sit up, he found his feet were tied together. "Mike?" He slowly opened his eyes, wincing at the light coming through the opening. Bringing his hands up in front of him, he pulled the string with his teeth until he was able to pull them loose enough to get his hands out of the leather straps. After slowly sitting up, he untied his feet while looking around the hut. Mike wasn't there.

He felt worse than he did after his worst drunk in Virginia City. He thought he must have looked worse, too, because when he slowly made his way out of the hut, everyone stopped to look and laugh. Mike rushed over from…somewhere…and helped him sit on the log next to the hut, answering his questions through her laughter at his curls sticking out at all angles and his eyes, barely open.

"What happened?"

"You drank the water of the seer. Peyote."

"Why didn't you tell me it was Peyote?"

"You must eat or you will be sick all day." She squatted in front of him and pulled a small piece of meat from the chunk she was holding. "Here. Eat this." After he swallowed, she handed him a gourd. "Drink this. It will make the pain in your head go away."

After a few minutes, memories of the last night slowly came back. He opened his eyes wide, looking intently at her. "Mike?"

"Do not worry. I tied you. You did nothing."

Adam blew out a long breath in relief. She puckered her mouth and cocked her head. "Mike, I didn't mean that you're not…it's just that I would never…intentionally…"

She patted his knee. "You are using big words again," she said as she went into the hut. She stuck her head back out. "Come."

When Adam entered the hut he was still eating the meat she had given him. He was surprised it was staying down, but he wasn't going to complain. After drinking whatever she had given him, he was beginning to feel better quickly.

"Remove your dopada'-nee' and put these on. The buckskin will blend with the rocks so that you will not be seen." While he was changing, she also changed into buckskin pants and top.

"You're going?"

"Yes. I can move more quickly through the rocks than the men. I fit into small places. We will travel far on foot. Can you run far?"

"I'll manage."

"You will wear your buckskin boots. We will be running over rock that will wear on your feet."

When they emerged from their hut, the Aha macave men who would be going with them were all dressed as Adam, except that they were barefoot. They handed a small poke of water with a strap to Adam and to Mike. Each one carried two knives. Three of the men carried a bow and a quiver of arrows. When everyone has ready Empote quatacheech said, "We go."

Adam and Mike fell in line in the middle of the six Aha macave, and they trotted away from camp toward the mines. When they reached the precipice just to the west of the mines, Empote quatacheech signaled for each man to take a specific position among the rocks, two moving to the south above the mine entrance, and three moving to the east side. He motioned for Mike to work her way to a hidden ledge just above the mine entrance. From their height, they could all see the entire encampment below and anyone that went in or came out of the mine. During their watch, Army guards kept constant vigil on the surrounding mountains, looking for any movement, seeing nothing. When the sun had moved halfway between straight up and the horizon Empote quatacheech made the vulture's call and the Aha macave, including Mike, slowly appeared behind Adam. They left as silently as they had come, and did not speak until they were back at the camp.

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Ben, Hoss and two ranch hands had ridden hard to arrive in Aurora the evening of their fourth day on the trail. Adam had mentioned in his telegram to speak to the bartender; that the bartender could give them more information than anyone else in town. The four men walked into the saloon and up to the bar.

"What'll it be for you fellas?"

"Four beers," said Ben. When the beers arrived, Ben leaned forward toward the bartender. "I'm looking for my son. He was here a little while ago looking for a guide by the name of Mike Dutton."

The bartender looked around the saloon, and seeing that it was almost empty, leaned forward. "Mister, people come in here all the time lookin' for Mike. After awhile, they all start lookin' alike."

Ben pulled a stack of coins from his pocket and began shuffling them, letting them bounce in his hand. "My son told me he was going into Death Valley with this guide. Does that sound familiar?"

"Did your son dress in black?" Ben nodded. "He left over a week ago, Mister, but there's no one here that will track him for you. He went lookin' for the Shoshoni and the Aha macave. The Army knows he's there, and they're lookin' for him."

"Oh? What happens when they find him?"

The bartender leaned close, looking around again before he answered. "If he's alone, he'll end up in the lead mines like his brother. If he's with Mike, he'll still end up in the mines, and Mike, well, they'll do some pretty awful things to Mike before they take her to the reservation. If they're with the Indians, there will be a small war. The Army outnumbers the Indians ten to one. It won't last very long."

"Her?" asked Ben, alarmed. "He hired a guide named Mike Dutton."

"That'd be a she, Mister. She's part white, part Shoshoni and part Mojave. And she's real important to the Army. She's been taking medicine in to the Indians. They're just waitin' for her and her Indians to attack the mines to get your missing son back."

Ben turned to Hoss, "Adam doesn't know they're walking into a trap. Is there a guide that knows that area that can maybe draw a map?" Ben asked the bartender.

The bartender thought. "Maybe. You gentlemen take a seat. I'll send someone after him."

While they waited, Ben pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. "What's that, Pa," asked Hoss.

"I'll ask the bartender to send this telegram tomorrow to Colonel Adamson in San Francisco. They won't be here in time to help us, but they will eventually get here and hopefully close those lead mines down. If the Army here is involved, we can't trust any of 'em."

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

_I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother,  
but to fight my greatest enemy - myself. – Native American Prayer_

The Aha macave men gathered around the cold fire pit, drinking and eating a light meal, discussing their observations at the mine.

"Homar huwhen, did you see your brother?"

"No. Though there were many white men coming and going through the mouth of the mine, I did not see him. I do not know why he would not be with the other men. How do you know he is in this mine?"

"The wagons come only to this mine. The mouth is high on the mountain; no one can escape. They move Aha macave to other mines when wagon brings more white men."

Another man spoke, "Empote quatacheech, the Army guards watched the mountains. They did not do this before."

"They know. I do not know how. They wait for us to come."

Everyone turned toward a commotion on the outskirts of the camp. An Aha macave man came into camp holding a knife at the neck of a soldier whose jacket was opened showing a white shirt streaked with blood. "We have been found. We must move." A murmur grew in the camp. Empote quatacheech breathed deeply. "Homar huwhen, we must wait to free your brother."

"He could die if we wait," answered Adam.

"We will die if we do not. We will move and watch for a good time."

"What will you do with him?" Adam asked, pointing to the soldier.

Empote quatacheech turned to the Aha macave holding the soldier. "Did he speak?"

"No, he would not speak." Empote quatacheech made a cutting motion with his hand and the Aha macave slowly cut the man's throat.

Adam could see the terror in the man's eyes as the blade slowly sliced his neck, thick red blood flowing down his chest. Adam jerked his head away and down, his anger turning to fury at the cruelness of it.

"Homar huwhen, you look away in shame. He would not spare your life. The soldiers take pleasure in killing the Indian."

"How do you know he was not following orders? When you give orders, do you not expect them to be followed?" asked Adam, angrily looking Empote quatacheech squarely in the eyes.

"All men choose good or bad. He chose to follow bad orders."

"All soldiers are not bad. If you go in to kill, you will be killed."

Empote quatacheech rose from the circle. "We are at war with the soldiers. We did not bring the war. We did not take their lands. We did not force them away. We will fight the white man's Army to keep what is ours. We move." Everyone began to dismantle the camp.

Adam sat staring at the ground in front of him. Mike slowly moved to his side. "This is the way of my people. They would not kill if the soldiers did not kill them or take them from their lands."

"This is why the white man believes the Aha macave are savages. Did you see that man's shirt? That man was tortured," Adam said furiously.

"It is no less than what they do to us. Because of this, they fear us yet they do these things. The soldiers are cowards." She moved in front of him, squatting as close to him as she could get. "Adam, you must understand. When the Aha macave go to free your brother, there will be killing. The Aha macave will kill as many of the soldiers as they can. We may go in like a mouse, but we will leave like the big cat once we have your brother."

"I won't kill a soldier unless I have no other choice," he said. She turned away. "Wait. We? You're not going."

"I will be the one to enter the cave to free your brother and the Aha macave there. I will be taking knives for them. If I am found, I will die before I let them take me. They will…do things…before they take me to the reservation."

"This isn't the kind of help I wanted."

"It is the only help you will get."

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Expecting his nightly routine to be different, Joe waited for a soldier to come get him rather than walking to the line to leave the mine. At first, he was sent where the Aha macave slept; in a tunnel that opened into a wide space where the walls were a dull brown rather than glistening black. When the soldiers came to chain the Aha macave, Joe was taken down another tunnel to a smaller opening where his leg irons were chained to an iron stake in the middle of the floor.

He stood defiantly in the center of the room until the soldier pointed his rifle at him. "Boy, I could care less if you try something. The captain'll be just a might upset for losing another worker, but it's just a matter of time before that happens. As soon as your kin show up, you'll be down the dead shaft. Now, if you want another day, you'll get down on that floor." Joe squatted down and waited for his rations.

While he was eating, another soldier brought in a bucket. "You got your own private privy now. Sweet dreams, Sunshine. 'Cause you'll never see any again." Joe could hear the soldier's cackle echoing through the mine.

Looking around him, Joe found nothing but rock. There were no patches of softer dirt anywhere in this cavern. He lay on his stomach again with his head on his arms, but soon found that whatever position he tried, the rock surface he was laying on was eventually going to hurt. He slept fitfully his first night alone.

The more exhausted he became from lack of sleep and the nature of the work, the easier it became to sleep, at least for awhile. Joe had begun to count the days again by lining up loose rocks in the cavern. He didn't make a regular pattern for fear that one of the soldiers would discovered them so he put rocks in a pile until he had seven, then put one rock next to the bucket to signify a week and started the pile over again. The more rocks he collected, the harder it was for him to believe that Adam was still coming. Looking at the piles during his first meal, he began to think that maybe his family had arrived and were turned away or perhaps the army had found Adam. What if Adam was already here somewhere being forced to dig, just like Joe? What if they had given up? How much longer should he wait before….

He had started on his third pile of rocks, and just before he fell asleep, he said aloud, "One more day."

A scout was sent to find a suitable place for camp higher up in the mountains. They would have to go further for water and food, but they would be even more difficult to find. Everything required to make camp was carried up the steep rocks on their backs, the women carrying the weight they could right along with the men.

It was long after dark when the camp was settled, and everyone gathered for the evening meal of dried salmon and mesquite beans. Empote quatacheech spoke to the tribe as they ate. "We go tonight to watch, but we will take the knives. If the soldiers do not watch, we will go in to find the brother of Homar huwhen."

"And when you find him, what then?" asked Adam loudly.

"We will bring him to you and you will leave us."

"And Chacha hoda?"

"Chacha hoda must go into the mine to free our people and your brother if he is there. When she has done her work, she may leave with you."

Adam knew there was no point arguing about what would be done after he left. He knew this was the best he could do. Still, he felt…ashamed…dirty…at the prospect of leaving the soldiers to a violent death. Or perhaps the Aha macave. But he saw no way to prevent it.

"How will I know your brother?" asked Mike.

Adam thought for a moment. "Ask him who the cook is. He'll understand. The answer is Hop Sing."

"Hop Sing," she said, nodding.

They traveled to the rocks around the mines as they had before, silently on foot. Empote quatacheech positioned them as before. They watched and waited. The white slaves from the mine were kept in a flat area where they slept on the ground chained together. The soldiers patrolled the area around them as well as the entrance to the mine.

As they watched, one of the Aha macave to the south came back to Empote quatacheech and Adam. He pointed to the north where Adam could just barely make out four dark figures riding toward the mine in the moonlight. It wasn't long before the guards heard them approach, and they all formed a line to the north of their encampment. The only soldiers that didn't go forward were the two stationed in the mouth of the mine. When the riders stopped in front of the soldiers, Empote quatacheech signaled for Mike to enter the mine.

They watched as she deftly climbed down the rock from the top, finding handholds and footholds that could not be seen from below. She stopped just above the mine entrance, hanging on to the rock with one hand and throwing her knife with the other. When the first soldier slumped, the second one bent to see what was wrong, unsuspecting of the knife that had been thrown from above. Before he had a chance to stand back up, she threw a second knife. The soldier slumped on top of the first. She climbed down, disappearing into the dark void of the mine.

Mike searched both soldiers for keys to the chains, found them, then made her way down the main tunnel. She began to worry that she wouldn't be able to find the Aha macave slaves and Adam's brother because there were so many tunnels off the main. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found a large chamber at the end of the main tunnel where the men were sleeping. She covered the mouth of the first man, waking him, then handed him the keys and a knife. He, in turn, woke the next man, passing the key along. As the Aha macave men awoke, she handed out knives. She looked across the entire group, but didn't see a white man, so she pulled the first Aha macave aside, whispering, "White man?"

"One is here in another tunnel. But why?"

"We must free him. We will talk after."

The Aha macave man took her to the tunnel where Joe was sleeping. She put her hand over his mouth and her knife at his neck, waking him.When he opened his eyes, he felt the knife at his throat and saw that it was being held by an Indian girl.

"Who is cook?" she whispered.

Joe creased his eyebrows for moment until the fog cleared.

She dug the knife into the flesh of his neck. "Who is cook?"

"Hop Sing."

Relaxing the knife, she said, "I have come with your brother, Adam, to free you. You must be silent." Joe nodded, and the Aha macave woman unlocked his chains. "Do you know how to use this?" she asked, holding out the knife. Joe nodded. "Then we go."

Once all the men were unchained, they waited for Mike at the mine entrance, crouching in the shadows. When they arrived, Mutheel munagh whispered to Joe, "You are not dead."

"No, I'm not dead," answered Joe, chuckling.

"Your brother has come for you as you said," said the Indian, smiling.

Joe crawled up next to the Indian girl, and seeing riders at the far side of the encampment, he nodded toward them and said quietly, "That's my father and brother."

She squatted low so the men on the ground below couldn't see her and signaled to Empote quatacheech. "You are not to kill the men on horseback," she said to the Aha macave waiting behind her. She turned to Joe. "You will go to the rocks there", she said, pointing toward Adam's position. "You and your brother go back to our camp and prepare to leave. Tell your brother to pack the horses. Tell him to wear his gun."

When Empote quatacheech gave the signal, the Aha macave poured out of the surrounding mountains, some moving the ladder to the mouth of the mine. More Aha macave came out of the mine, their combined numbers taking the soldiers on the ground by surprise. Empote quatacheech had moved from their hiding place and went down the mountain with his men.

Joe did as he was told, running to the rocks at the west and climbing until he was grabbed and pulled into the shadows.

Adam wrapped his hand around Joe's neck, looking into his eyes with a seriousness that made Joe inwardly smile at the knowledge that this family would never have given up. "Joe?"

"I'm alright, Adam," he said, and for the first time in weeks, he _was_ alright. He grasped his brother's arms. "She said to go back to the horses and get them packed."

The girl waited until the fighting began, skirting along the sides of the mountains until she was even with Ben and Hoss who were confused at what was taking place, their horses barely in control. Running to Ben's horse, she grabbed the reins. "I am Mike Dutton. Follow me," she yelled above the calls of the Indians and the cries of dying men. She ran ahead of them, turning and motioning them to follow. Ben turned his horse, yelling for Hoss and the two hands. They galloped toward her as she ran to the cover of the rocks. "We must go quickly," she said, swinging up on Ben's horse behind him, pointing the way.

Adam and Joe were running toward the camp when they heard the approaching horses and ducked behind rocks until the horses were closer. Seeing his father, Adam climbed up on top of the rock and waved him down. "Pa, I don't have time to explain. We have to go."

Mike jumped down from Ben's horse, and Adam grabbed her arm. "Where are you going?"

"I must help my people," she said, trying to pull away.

"You're not going back. We need your help to get out of here."

"You do not need my help," she shouted, struggling against his grip. "You know the way."

"Help me get them back to the camp. Then we'll both come back."

Joe climbed up behind Ben who glanced back with a grateful smile and a watery shine in his eyes. The ranch hands doubled up on one horse, and Adam hauled Mike, kicking and struggling, up on the last horse and followed her up, sitting behind her and holding her in the saddle.

When they arrived at camp, Mike spoke in her language to the women, apparently explaining the white men in their camp. "You must stay at my hut," she then said to the Cartwrights. "If you move away from here, they will kill you."

Adam turned to leave with her. "Wait, where are you going?" asked Ben anxiously.

"Pa, stay here. I have to help if I can."

Ben grabbed Adam's arm. "The only thing you have to do is leave with us. You're not going back there."

Adam shrugged his father's hand away. "I can't leave them, Pa," he said, looking intently into his father's eyes.

Ben grudgingly nodded, recognizing that look on Adam's face that said he was doing this no matter what his father had to say. Adam went into the hut, pulling his gun out of the basket, and then he and Mike climbed back down from the camp to the trail through the canyons.

**"**Pa, where is Adam going?" Joe asked.

"He's going back to help the Indians."

A determined look came over Joe's face. "Then I'm going with him," he said as he turned to follow Adam.

Ben grabbed his arm. "You're going to stay right here with the rest of us. I'm not going to risk two sons in an Indian war."

"Pa, it was the Indians who came for me. I owe it to them to help," he argued, his nostrils flaring and his jaw set.

Ben took a deep breath and spoke calmly. "There already gone, son. You might not even find them. Besides that, you need to rest. You've been through an ordeal yourself." Ben looked at his wrists. "How did this happen?"

Sighing heavily, Joe looked at his hands. "I was shackled until I got to the mine."

"Save your strength. We still have to get out of here."

Joe glanced at his father's face, seeing tiredness there along with deep lines of worry. Somehow it was as though Pa's fatigue wove itself right into Joe. He was tired, he realized. More than tired. He was also having a hard time taking a deep breath, and his back…it was burning, reminding him of those first nights…reminding him of the whip. Clenching his teeth, he nodded brusquely, angry and frustrated at feeling so weak. He turned to go into the hut, but stopped himself.

"Pa, what about Adam?"

"What do you mean?"

"He didn't look like..." Joe opened his mouth and shook his head as if he was trying to find the right words. "He didn't look like Adam. He looked like…like one of them."

Ben nodded and attempted a smile, then put his hand on Joe's shoulder. "Get some rest."

When Adam and Mike arrived at the mine, they climbed back up on the precipice where Empote quatacheech and Adam had been hiding, looking down into the encampment. Mike gasped at the bloody scene, bodies of both Indian and soldier littering the encampment floor. There were still screams of the soldiers as they felt the Aha macave knife mixed in with the grunts of the Aha macave falling from the bullets of the soldier's guns. In the end, there were more soldiers standing than Aha macave. Adam and Mike watched as the few Aha macave that remained began to climb the rocks to escape.

"Stay here," Adam said as he climbed down the rock face. He motioned for the remaining Aha macave to come to him. As he pointed them up the rock, he drew his gun ready to defend them if the soldiers gave chase. When he climbed up behind them, he turned around and looked down at the encampment. He saw no more Aha macave who were alive. "There's nothing more to do here," said Adam. "Let's get back to the camp." Adam stood to leave and Mike reluctantly followed.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

When Adam and Mike arrived back at the camp, they were joined by the few Aha macave who had retreated to the rocks after the battle. Ben, Joe and Hoss came out of the hut to listen.

"Empote quatacheech will not return," said one of the Indian men sadly. "Our numbers are too small to fight. We must join with another band." He turned and motioned for the remaining members of the band to begin breaking their camp. They would take what they could carry, leaving the rest behind. He turned back to Adam and Mike. "Chacha hoda cannot stay," he said to Adam. "If the soldiers find her, they will keep her at the mine for many days before they take her to the reservation. If they find she has white blood, they will take her to the prison of the white man."

Ben stepped forward. "Adam, the army knows she's been helping her people. They're looking for her. She can't go back to Aurora."

Mike looked out across the top of the small mesa. "I do not belong…anywhere."

"What about the Shoshoni?" asked Adam. "Can't you go back there?"

"I will bring the soldiers to them."

"Not if you stay there and hide. Don't go back to Aurora."

"But who will bring the medicine?"

Adam took her by the arms. "I don't know, but it can't be you. It won't do them any good if you get caught."

She bowed her head. "I will go to the Shoshoni. I will find a way to bring the medicine. I can walk with the white man without being seen."

Joe saw the expression on Adam's face and knew he was frustrated. He also knew that Adam cared for the girl or he wouldn't have been so insistent that she not go back to Aurora.

"You'll travel with us. We'll go back the way we came in," said Adam, turning to his father. "The Army will be looking for us. We have to get back to Aurora before they find us."

"Adam, I sent a telegram to Colonel Adamson in San Francisco. I don't know how long it will take them to get here, but I expect they'll close down these mines," said Ben.

"That will be good for the Aha macave, but it's too late for us. We should leave soon. How's Joe?" he asked, looking over his father's shoulder.

"He'll survive. He's pretty worn out, but with a little food and water, he'll be alright," answered Ben.

"I hope so, Pa. He's got a ways to travel."

Adam and Mike packed their belongings, taking some of the corn and dried meat. As they packed the horses they watched while the Aha macave climbed down from the small mesa carrying their belongings on their backs, silently disappearing into the canyons and rocks of the desert.

Standing beside Adam, Joe said, "One minute they're right here, and the next it's like they were never here at all." Adam squeezed his shoulder, looking worriedly into his eyes. "I'm alright, Adam...now."

Adam and Mike led them out the same way they had come, avoiding the open desert, making hidden camps, removing all evidence that they had been there. Ben, Joe and Hoss watched as Adam became an Indian, wearing his breechcloth, climbing the rocks and cliffs as silently as Mike, preparing their camp and meals, and breaking camp, leaving no trace. They made four two-man shelters at night, Ben sleeping in a shelter with Joe, the two ranch hands sharing a shelter, Adam, sleeping in his breechcloth with Mike, and Hoss sleeping alone. Mike was proud that Adam continued to wear his breechcloth and travel in bare feet. She had come to think of Adam as one of her people.

One day out, the soldiers caught up to them. As they turned their horses to run, the men fired at the soldiers who were firing on them. No one heard or noticed when Mike was hit. She kept riding on until they had reached cover, and even then, hid her pain from them. It was night before they tried to leave under cover of darkness. They quietly left the soldiers behind, traveling on foot for a distance before mounting their horses. It was only then that Adam noticed her wound when she couldn't mount her horse. He pulled her away, holding her as she slowly sank to the ground. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We did not have the time to stop," she said weakly.

"Adam, how is she?" asked Ben.

Adam shook his head. "If we could have stopped the bleeding earlier…she's lost a lot of blood. We have to get her to the Shoshoni," said Adam, covering her wound as best he could. Ben handed her up to Adam after he mounted his horse. He held her for the rest of the trip until the Shoshoni found them and took them to the Shoshoni village.

"What has happened?" asked an Indian woman, looking at the wound. "Ayasha has been shot by a white man's gun?" she said, glaring at Adam and motioning for others to come take her. The Shoshoni went into a hut while the Cartwrights waited.

When Adam tried to enter the hut, he was stopped by one of the men. "You carry a white man's gun. You are not Shoshoni."

Ben drew Adam back away from the hut, frowning, watching him as he silently paced while Joe stood by, equally silent. This girl, Mike or Ayasha, had risked her life to save his. Now, she lay dying, and Adam…he understood there was a closeness there and wondered just what Adam had gone through to get to him.

Soon, all the Shoshoni left the hut except for the woman, having done everything they could do. After a few minutes the woman came out and spoke to Adam. "She wishes to speak to you."

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

"Pa, do you know anything about his girl?" asked Joe while they waited for Adam outside the hut.

Ben leaned back against the tree they were sitting under. "When Adam and Hoss found that you were missing…found all your things, Cochise…they also found wagon tracks and followed them south. They had gone far enough south that they knew the wagon wasn't going to California, and the only place south was desert, so Adam spoke to old Luther in Virginia City, asking if he knew any guides who could take him through. Luther told him to look for this Mike Dutton in Aurora. Evidently, she was his guide, and in order to get to the mine, he had to go through the Indians. How and why he changed, I don't know, but we have to assume it was the only way to get to you."

"Joe, there's an Indian war goin' on down here," said Hoss. "And since we found out in Aurora that the army might be involved in the mine, I reckon Adam, did too. That only left the Indians for help. This girl is part white. And it looks like she's part Shoshoni and part of them others…I heard 'em call themselves Aha macave. She brings medicine to both tribes."

When Joe moved to sit down, Hoss saw a stain on his back, and moved to look at it. "Boy, what've they done to you?" he asked, pulling Joe's shirt up.

Standing up quickly and turning, Joe said, "It's nothing. At least, nothing you can do anything about."

Now, Ben was on his feet. "Turn around, Son."

Joe recognized that voice and the stern, but concerned look in his father's eyes and knew there was no point in arguing. When Ben pulled Joe's shirt up, he sucked in a breath while Hoss winced at the reopened wounds. "Hoss, get something to bandage this. Joe, why didn't you tell me you were whipped?"

"It wouldn't have made any difference, Pa. We had to leave."

Adam came out of the hut, looked at his family, and then turned to walk away. "Adam, wait," called Joe. "How is she?"

Looking up at Joe, Adam shook his head, then left. In that brief moment, Joe saw Adam's eyes; wet, red, and full of hurt.

Standing behind Joe and taking his shoulders, Ben said, "He'll be alright, Son. He just needs time. And you, you need food and rest. We're making camp for the night. Come on over here and let Hoss take care of your back."

Joe watched as Adam disappeared through the towers of rock in the desert. Walking over to their camp, he sat down while Hoss bandaged his back. When Hoss had their dinner prepared, he offered a plate to Joe. "Thanks, Hoss, but I'm not hungry."

"Joe, you look like you're about to dry up and blow away. What'd they feed you anyway?"

"Mine rations they called it. Dried meat, stale bread and water…twice a day, before we went into the mine and when we came out."

"You need to put some good food in you. Eat this."

Joe took the plate and sat it on his lap, staring at it.

"Son, there's nothing else you can do. It's over. Now eat your dinner," said Ben quietly, studying his youngest. One would think Joe would be happy that he was back with his family away from the horrors in the mine, but he looked like he'd lost something…something important. Ben put his plate down. "What is it, Son?"

"There was an Indian in the mine. His name was Mutheel munagh. We sort of became friends. We couldn't really speak to each other. We weren't allowed to say anything, but when the soldiers weren't around, we talked. He told me what I had to do to stay alive, and I promised him that you would come for me." Joe snorted. "He didn't think much of that…his own people couldn't get them out. The Indian slaves never left the mine. Except for dumping rocks in a bucket at the entrance, they never saw the light of day." Joe paused, trying to control his emotions. "I didn't see Mutheel managh when Adam came back to the camp. There were so many more in the mine, but only a few came back, Pa, and it was the army that did this to them."

Ben watched his son tell his story; watched tears form, and even though he was sharing Joe's pain over the plight of the Indians, he was proud of his son. Joe wasn't telling him about what he had endured. He was telling him what those around him had gone through and lost.

"This girl that helped Adam; she saved my life, Pa. She told me where to go to find Adam, and then she ran down into the compound with her people." He looked up at the sky, his eyes glistening with tears, his brows drawn in anguish, reflecting a pain that went far deeper than any physical wound. "And now she's dead, and the men who are supposed to protect us are the ones that did this. And Adam, Pa, something has happened to Adam that has changed him. All because I took a shortcut so I could get back in time for a dance."

By now, Ben was at Joe's side, holding on to him. "Joe, you can't take the blame for this. You've done nothing wrong. If you hadn't been taken, those Indians would still be in the mine with no chance of ever leaving. They chose to fight once they were free. Mike chose to keep riding when she was shot. The Indians…all of them…the Paiute, the Shoshoni, and these Aha macave…are fighting the same war. They're fighting to keep what is theirs. It's no less than what we do to keep what's ours." Taking Joe's shoulders, Ben moved Joe back so he could look into his eyes, hoping that what he said had sunk in. "There's nothing left that any of us can do except mourn the dead and pray for the living."

"What about Adam?"

"I think Adam is feeling something like what you're feeling. He's lost friends just like you have. But you know your brother…he's not one to talk about how he feels."

"She was more than his friend, Pa."

"She was. But we're not going to know anything else until he's ready to talk about it. And he may never be. Now, I want you to eat some of this food and get some rest. We'll be going home tomorrow, and it's a long ride."

Joe nodded and ate a few bites, then lay back on the bed Hoss made for him. Even though it was stinging from the wounds that had reopened during their escape, he lay on his back, looking up at the night sky and thought that never again would he complain about sleeping under the stars.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

The next morning, when Ben, Joe and Hoss got ready to leave for home, Adam didn't prepare with them. "Pa, I don't think the Army will stop you now. You're too close to Aurora for them to risk it."

"I don't like it. They'll be looking for you. You need to come with us," said Ben.

Adam resolutely looked his father in the eye. "I'm not leaving until it's done. I'll be alright. I know how to blend in."

Taking a deep breath, Ben nodded. He knew this was something Adam needed to do to live with everything that had happened the last few weeks; to say goodbye. When the Cartwrights and their hands mounted, Ben looked back one last time before he turned to leave while Adam waved as they rode away.

Joe lingered for a moment, looking at Adam sadly, knowing that his brother's journey had turned out to be just as difficult as his own…different, but hard just the same. When Adam smiled and nodded, Joe forced a smile and nodded back, then turned to catch up to the others.

Adam carried Ayasha's body to the funeral pyre, handing her up to the Shoshoni medicine man, who offered prayers so that her spirit would be not be bound to the earth. When the medicine man came down from the pyre, he handed a lit torch to Kimama standing on one end of the pyre and to Adam standing at the other end. After the last prayer was sung, Kimama and Adam lit each end of the pyre and stepped back with the other Shoshoni, watching the smoke carry Ayasha's spirit to the heavens.

Kimama leaned over to Adam. "Ayasha said you lived bravely with the Aha macave to save all our peoples. She said you are tsaa' mukua, a good spirit." She turned to face him, holding his arms. "Tsiishchili, the Shoshoni; Homar huwhen, the Aha macave; Adam Cartwright, the white man, you are welcome in the land of the Shoshoni." She took his face in her hands, and kissed both cheeks, then turned and walked back to the village.

A Shoshoni brave handed him the bosal reins of a horse. Adam swung his leg up and over, looked back at the pyre, then turned and left, never to return to Furnace Creek.

When they rode into Aurora, all eyes turned to watch. "Joseph, we're getting supplies, and then we're leaving."

"But, Pa, the sheriff…"

"The sheriff will be dealt with in due time along with the men who took you if they survived. Hoss, you make sure he stays here with the horses."

"Yessir."

Joe didn't argue or give Hoss any trouble. He was bone weary and mentally exhausted and just wanted to get home and sleep in his own bed. Still, there was Adam. "Hoss, you saw Adam." Hoss nodded and looked at the ground. "He's different. What if he doesn't come home?"

"Little Joe, don't you be sayin' nothin' like that. He may have had to change to blend in with the Indians, but he's still the Adam we've always known. You just wait…he'll be back."

"He could stay and fight with the Indians."

"Little Joe, didn't you see? There ain't hardly any Indians left."

They arrived home the next day, and the first thing Joe wanted was a bath; something that Hop Sing was all too happy to prepare for him. Next, Hop Sing prepared a feast, and afterwards, Joe went straight to bed. "Pa, if Adam comes in, wake me up, alright?"

"Joseph, when Adam comes in, I'm sure he'll want to sleep in his own bed as much as you do." Ben put his hands on Joe's shoulders. "Stop worrying about your brother. He'll be alright, just like you will. Now, let Hoss check your bandages before you lie down," he said, nodding toward Hoss to follow Joe upstairs.

Adam arrived home a day later while Hoss and Joe were in Virginia City to see Doc Martin. He paused at home long enough to write a letter to Colonel Adamson before he left again, hoping to fulfill his promise to Mike with it.

"Adam, Little Joe is anxious to see you. He's worried."

Adam snorted. "I'm not the one who went to Hell and back, Pa."

"That's not true. There are all kinds of things we go through that can be likened to going through Hell. Your time in the desert affected you…in different ways than Joe…but just the same, it must've been hard for both of you."

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Adam lowered his head not wanting his father to see his eyes. "Tell him I'm alright. Tell him…tell him I'll be back; that there's something I still have to do." He took his gunbelt and hat from the cabinet in the entryway and left.

When Joe stepped through the door, he had one question for his father, who was sitting in the leather chair next to the fireplace. Had Adam gotten home?

"Joseph, sit down. I want to talk to you."

There was a certain look on his father's face that Joe had come to recognize as one of quiet concern; a look that said he wanted to do something, but wasn't going to…a look that said he knew he had to let his sons be the men they were.

"He came home, didn't he?" asked Joe.

"Yes, he did."

"And he just left?"

"No, he wrote a letter first."

"Did he say anything?"

"He asked about you. I told him you had gone into town to see the doctor, and that you were worried about him. He asked me to tell you that he was alright; that he'd be back, but he had to do something."

Joe stood up, looking into the fire with his hands on his hips, then turned to his father with his nostrils flared. "He should be here…at home with his family. What could he possibly have to do that's more important?"

Ben answered very calmly…sadly. "You…we all…have to give him time to grieve."

"How could he…" Joe choked on his words. "How could he love her? She was…young."

Ben's eyes became moist. He stood and squeezed Joe's shoulders without looking him in the eye. "Like a father loves his sons…or a man loves his brothers." He walked to the desk and sat down, busying himself with the books.

**Chapter Thirty**

"Pa, it's been more than a week. Maybe I should go look for him," said Joe, pacing in front of the fire.

Ben had just sat down to enjoy his pipe before he retired. "Joseph, we have to give him time to do whatever it is he needs to do. When he's ready, he'll be back."

"What if he's hurt and can't get back?"

"You don't even know where to look."

Glancing down at a thin sliver of wood he had worked off a piece of kindling, he conceded and threw the wood into the fire. "I'll just feel a lot better when he's here…with his family…where he should be. Pa, night after night I dreamed of being home with you and Hoss and Adam. I felt so…empty…and alone. I…I just wanted to feel whole again…safe…the way I've always felt here. I knew it would be Adam who came, but it seemed so long…I had just about given up hope." Joe bowed his head, taking a deep breath. "I remember thinking the soldiers had caught Adam, and he was somewhere in that mine with me. I remember lying there, giving myself one more day, saying one more prayer, and that's when Mike came and got me." He looked back up at his father with tears in his eyes. "It won't be over until we're all safe at home."

Ben didn't answer, but smiled slightly as he looked into the fire. Joe was feeling what the rest of them were feeling…worry; not for some physical harm, but more because Adam seemed to have a need to come to terms with more than just the girl. He wondered again as he had since Adam arrived home and left just what had happened during his time in the desert.

"Pa?"

"Hm? What is it, Son?"

"I was saying goodnight. You looked like you were a hundred miles away."

The corner of Ben's mouth turned up. "I suppose I was. Good night, Joe."

Slowly making his way up the stairs, Joe stopped just as he turned the corner toward his bedroom when he heard the latch of the door and the unmistakable sound of Adam's boots on the wood floor.

After spending more than a week in the northern reaches of the Ponderosa, living off the land, sitting on the mesa watching the sun rise and set, Adam Cartwright walked through the door of his father's house. He hung his hat on the rack hanging on the wall. He carefully wrapped his gun belt around the holster, placing it on the cabinet. Then he walked to the massive fireplace, propping one foot up on the hearth, looking into the fire.

His father watched the routine he had not seen since Adam had returned from Death Valley. He stayed quiet in the leather chair next to the fireplace, patiently waiting.

Listening at the top of the stairs, Joe could barely make out some of the words as Adam and his father spoke; not enough to understand the conversation. There was a short period when nothing was said, and Joe assumed Adam was reading the letter that had come for him and laid waiting on the table unopened for the last week.

"She was only seventeen; a child. I understand now, Pa."

"What is it that you understand, Son?"

"How you feel; why you worry when one of us is late getting home or hurting emotionally or in physical pain. I understand why you sit next to our beds when we're ill until you know we're alright."

Ben smiled. After a quiet moment he said, "A telegram came for you while you were gone. It's from Colonel Adamson."

Adam turned, took the letter, and sat on the hearth. He looked at the envelope for a moment, then opened it and read. When he was finished, he smiled, refolded it and put it back in the envelope.

"The lead mines have been shut down. The Captain at Fort Mojave has been imprisoned. When an accounting was made of all the Shoshoni, they were told that only one Shoshoni, a man called Tsiishchili, was not with them. Medicine will be provided to them and the Aha macave. He said the remaining Aha macave went to Fort Mojave on their own. A man named Quaskette howa reported that other than one man and one woman, there were no more Aha macave in the desert. He couldn't confirm whether a man called Homar huwhen and woman named Chacha hoda were dead or alive."

"Did you know these people?" asked Ben.

"Chacha hoda means 'beautiful ear of corn'. That was Mike's Aha macave name." Adam smiled. "Tsiishchili means 'curly haired.' Homar huwhen means 'hairy man with short hair'." He rose from the hearth. "Good night, Pa."

Ben smiled knowingly as he watched Adam climb the stairs. "Good night, Son."

Joe distinctly heard Adam say, "good night", followed by his boots on the wooden floor again. When the stairs creaked, he made his way to his bedroom, opened the door, and then waited inside. He heard Adam in the hallway beyond and stuck his head out the door. "Adam?"

Adam stopped and studied Joe, then nodded for Joe to join him in his room. For a moment, they just looked at each other. "You're looking better," said Adam. "What'd the doctor say?"

"He said I'll have a few scars, but other than that, I'll be fine with a little more rest. The truth is, Pa's kept me cooped up in the house all this time. I'm ready to get back to work," he said with a forced smile. Taking a step forward, he looked Adam in the eye. "What about you?"

Sitting on the bed, Adam motioned to a chair and crossed his arms. "Joe, is it possible for you to believe that something good came out of this?"

Joe lowered himself into the chair. "Good? Adam, I was at a point that I began to think the worst; that you had been found and killed or were working somewhere in that same mine; then later, that I was only going to leave that place one way."

"You know better than that. Even if something had happened to me, Hoss and Pa would never have stopped looking until they found you."

"I do know that, Adam. That's what made me hold on." The smile in Joe's eyes told Adam that he really did know. "But you…you became one of _them_."

Adam reached back and scratched his neck. "Joe, the army patrolled the road going into the desert. The Indians were my only choice to get to you. Becoming…like an Indian wasn't hard once I understood they live that way to survive. You and I know how to survive on our own among the trees and where there's water. But the desert…we've always been wary of the desert. Even afraid. I'm not afraid of the desert anymore. I can survive there thanks to the Shoshoni and the Aha macave."

"I met an Indian in the mine. We became friends," said Joe, sitting with his forearms on his thighs, his hands hanging down between his legs. "His name was Mutheel managh. I'd always been told that the desert Indians were cruel, vicious savages, but in the mine, we were equal. He told me how to survive." A deep frown came over his face. "I didn't see him when you brought the others back to the camp."

"The things you've heard about them are only half true. There was a reason for them to fight. They were losing their land…their heritage. They were being forced onto a reservation, and their children were being taken away from them." Adam snorted and smiled. "They were friendly people once they knew I meant them no harm. They shared everything they had with me." His smile slowly faded. "There were only a few of them left when Mike and I got back to the mine. All the others…those that came with me and those that came from the mine were already dead."

Standing, Joe walked to the window and looked out into a night sky full of stars. He could understand Adam risking his life to save him, but the Indians…the price was too high, and he was feeling the weight of it. "Adam, was all that worth one man's life?"

Adam took a deep breath, then tightened his lips into a line, finally understanding what it was about the whole situation that Joe couldn't let go. "Joe, you aren't responsible for those losses. The Aha macave were fighting a war. You gave them an excuse to attack the soldiers at the mine. They didn't do that for you. They did that for themselves."

Dropping his head again, Joe turned, and asked quietly, "What will happen to the ones that are left?"

"The letter from Colonel Adamson said that the few who were left went to the fort. They were the last ones in the desert. The army will supply both tribes with the medicine that Mike had been taking them. And the Shoshoni at the village will be allowed to stay there. He also said the mines have been shut down, and those responsible have been punished."

"Nolan; the man who took me?"

"I don't know. If he was still at the mine, he might be dead, but we may never know." Joe moved to the bed and sat next to his brother as Adam continued. "I made good friends in the desert, Joe, and even though many of them died, the only thing I regret…" Looking down at the floor, he finished, "She didn't have to die. If she had said something when she'd been hit, she would have survived. None of her people were with us. I can only guess why she didn't say anything." Breathing deeply, he looked in front of him at nothing in particular. "One day, I'll tell you about Mike."

"Each one of us knows deep down that the others would sacrifice their lives to keep us safe. Maybe she felt that way about you."

"She said more than once that she didn't belong anywhere."

"Maybe you made her feel like she belonged somewhere." Adam propped his arm on his knee and raised his hand to his mouth. "I'm glad your home," said Joe as he squeezed Adam's shoulder, then rose and walked to the door. He turned around before he closed the door behind him. "Good night."

Adam raised his head and smiled. "Night, Joe."

_When you were born, you cried  
and the world rejoiced.  
Live your life  
so that when you die,  
the world cries and you rejoice.  
White Elk_

**The End**

**Epilogue**

The Shoshone living in Death Valley were known as the Panamint Shoshone. In the 1850's, the Act for the Government and Protection of Indians was essentially a slave act where any white citizen could take any Indian child to any justice of the peace and state that he wanted to adopt the Indian child. The child was immediately placed in the custody of that person. The same process could be followed for an entire family, after which the family became indentured servants. To leave was punishable by death at the hands of the owners.

By the 1860's, after repeal of the act, there were approximately only 150 Shoshone left in Death Valley. In 1866, the Treaty of Ruby Valley granted the United States rights-of-way across Western Shoshone territories. The federal government officially took the Panamint Shoshone primary ancestral lands with the creation of Death Valley National Monument in 1933. Three years later, the Park Service officially allowed the Panamint Shoshone to remain on forty acres at Furnace Creek. Still, the Panamint Shoshone were not a federally recognized tribe until 1983 when their name became the Timbisha Shoshone.

As a result of continued mistreatment by Park Service employees, most of the Timbisha moved from Death Valley north into Bishop to live as guests of their distant cousins, the Northern Paiute, on the Bishop Reservation.

It wasn't until 1994 that the Secretary of the Interior was instructed to work with the Timbisha Shoshone to find a suitable reservation. Interior Secretary Bruce Babbit tried unsuccessfully to remove them off the last remnant of their traditional homelands.

The Timbisha Shoshone Homeland Act was ratified in November, 2000. A total of 7,700 acres were restored to the tribe as a reservation. This includes the Death Valley Indian Community where they are the majority residents at Furnace Creek.

The small tribe of the Timbisha Shoshone was historically among, if not the most, oppressed people in the United States.

=================

The history of the Aha macave has only recently been uncovered because the Aha macave had no written language. Their language was spoken only. The Aha macave or Mojave as they are known today were the largest and most war-like of the Yuman tribes. Their ancestral lands stretched from the area around the Hoover Dam today to the area surrounding the Parker Dam. The Aha macave hunted, however their chief sustenance came from their cultivated crops grown along the Colorado River. To this they added mesquite beans, fish and pinion nuts.

By act of March 3, 1865, the Colorado River Reservation in Arizona was established for members of the Aha macave, Chemehuevi and Kawia tribes.

In April, 1859, Fort Mojave was established to provide a shelter for emigrants to California and a base of operations against the Aha macave (Mojave) Indians. Captured Aha macave were held prisoner at the fort. In 1861, the fort was abandoned and burned out of fear of Confederate forces in the area.

In 1863, the post was re-established and assigned protection duties for travelers along the Mojave and Prescott roads. In 1870, the fort became the center of the Fort Mojave Indian Reservation. The Army gave the Aha macave the choice of submission or extermination, and the majority of them chose submission. Only small numbers remained outside of the reservation and fort.

From 1890 when Fort Mojave came under the jurisdiction of the Department of the Interior until 1931, an era of 'de-indianizing' the Aha macave took place. Tribal ties were broken, they were forbidden to use their own language as well as most of their traditional ways. They were given five lashes if they spoke in their native tongue. The children were forced to attend a boarding school where they were transformed to white, with haircuts, clothing, eating habits, manners, industry, language…all white customs. They were also given English names and forbidden to use their Aha macave names.

From a population of thousands, in 1963 the population of Aha macave at Fort Mojave was 438 and at the Colorado River Reservation, 550.

Today, their tribal headquarters, library, and museum are in Parker, Arizona.


End file.
